


Two Birds

by gulpygrif



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Twins, Angst, Blue Hawke, F/M, Humor, M/M, Purple Hawke, Slow Burn, Work In Progress, possible PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2018-04-07 16:46:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4270608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gulpygrif/pseuds/gulpygrif
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Garrett Hawke receives a mysterious letter telling him to go to the docks, the whole team expects it to be a trap. When instead of enemies they find his long-thought-dead twin sister, they suddenly have a new member of their little party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Letter from a Stalker

**Author's Note:**

> This is such a crackpot thing that I just really felt like writing. I don’t know where the hell this is headed, so we’ll go through this train-wreck together! Sorry, and thanks in advance for reading! I hope you enjoy C:  
> Also, chapters will rotate between character points of views. Every even chapter will be Marian’s point of view, but all the rest will alternate between the companions. I will be posting 2 chapters at a time (hopefully) but I'm not sure how long of time I will have between each posting. Probably a week up to a month between each posting.

> _Garrett Hawke (Amell?),_  
>  _You’ve certainly grown popular since I saw you last. I never thought you were the type to get into all this fancy-shmancy noble bullshit, but you never know a man until after he hits puberty, right? I suggest you keep your schedule clear for the next few days, if you can. We have a lot of catching up to do, and I’d really rather not hear it all from Gamlen or the equally drunk patrons at the nearest bar._  
>  _Ah, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning: I’ve been searching for you in all the wrong places, it seems. Before I found you in Kirkwall I had been attempting to track you down all across Ferelden and Orlais, luckily some stories I heard about you in my recent adventures led me in the right direction. Everyone seems enamored with you in some way or another, not that it surprises me, you always were a people-pleaser._  
>  _I have a little surprise for you, whether the surprise is good or bad, that’s something for you to decide when you see it. But, before you see this surprise, I’ll need a few favors first. I trust you’ll find it all worth the trouble in the end._
> 
> _First: I need you to bring your story-teller along. I never would have found you without all those ridiculous tales leading the way. I’d like to thank the man properly, if I can._  
>  _Second: I am desperate for a good bottle of wine. You’re rich now, so I expect you to bring the best or at least damn close to it._  
>  _Third: Please don’t bring any templars or guards with you unless you absolutely trust them. I’d rather not be arrested on the spot._  
>  _Fourth: Completely optional- but you may want to bring a handkerchief? Knowing you, you'll need it._
> 
> _I’ll be waiting down at the docks for the next few nights, so please make your way to me at the earliest possible time. It smells like fish here, and I don’t like it at all._
> 
> _-An old(er) friend_

********************

“Okay, so it’s possible this is a trap-”

“Did you figure that out on your own?”

“-I… hush love” Garrett threw a glare towards Anders, then swept his eyes over the rest of the group. Everyone was sitting around the table in Varric's suite at the Hanged Man, and each of them had alcohol in their hand despite it being early afternoon. They had gathered after a rather rough morning of tromping through the underbelly of the city, it had been one of those days only drinks could fix. “I know it’s probably not smart, but I’m going.” 

“And you expect me to come along with you?” The dwarf swirled his tankard, the golden liquid threatening to spill out over the edge. The group had been discussing whether or not meeting with this stranger was really wise, considering their demands. Varric was more than skeptical, believing that this whole thing was a ruse to get them captured. Specifically asking for him to come could mean it was people from the Merchant’s guild with a grudge, or maybe even some fan who wanted to kidnap him. Honestly, out of the two, he was hoping for the former. 

Giving a look of exasperation to the dark haired human, he spoke: “Hawke, despite what it may seem, I am not looking to get killed anytime soon.”

“What makes you think you’ll be killed?” Hawke asked, looking over to his friend. His bright golden eyes were wide in concern, “Did you receive a letter too?”

“No, no.” Varric sighed, shaking his head. Sometimes he wondered how Hawke had gotten so successful in the city. The man was certainly not the smartest, and he was so naive Varric had originally believed the entire thing was an act. Honestly, he was probably more like puppy than Hawke’s _actual_ dog. Maybe it was the fact that he was so sweet, no one was cruel enough to possibly take advantage of him? He was just _too_ earnest and caring? 

“Sweet-thing,” Isabela cut in, leaning across the table and resting her head in her hand. “He’s worried because they specifically asked for him. You, that’s one thing, we’re used to people targeting you. Our resident story teller…” Isabela shot a look over to the dwarf. “...well, fans can be scarier than any blood-mage.”

“Exactly. So let’s not take a chance.” Varric agreed. He wondered briefly if the pirate had run-ins with ‘fans’ before... she certainly had enough of them at the Hanged Man.

Garrett looked incredulous, “You think they are a fan of yours? That would…” He pondered for a moment, glancing down at the crisp paper in the table between them, “That would actually make a lot of sense.”

Sebastian frowned, his hands folding on the table in his usual proper manner. “Maker knows what they want. I think sitting this one out would be best.”

“Agreed.” Fenris’ voice rumbled the first word he’d spoken at this little meeting as he gave Garrett a side look. “I think going to meet this person would be unwise.”

“Ooo, but Varric, what if it _is_ a fan? Wouldn’t you like to meet them? They’re probably _very_ nice.” Merrill grabbed the letter, scanning it over. Her fingers seemed to twitch in excitement. “They sound like they knew you Garrett, maybe from home? Oh! What if they have stories about baby Garrett?! I say we meet them! I’d love to hear about Hawke before he had a beard... or did you always have that?” 

Dark hands snatched the letter from the elf’s grasp as she excitedly tittered about what a child Garrett Hawke would look like. 

“Kitten has a point, they do seem like they knew you. Of course, it may just be an act.” Isabela shrugged, placing the paper back down in front of Garrett. “I say it’s worth the risk if there’s a chance I can hear all about Baby-Hawke. Besides…” She swung her legs onto the table, casually flipping her dagger between her hands. “...we can take them.” 

“Okay, three of us say go, three say no. The rest?” Garrett glanced at Aveline in front of him, then switched his gaze to Anders on his right. 

Aveline shook her head and sighed, “I don’t think it’s _wise_ , but I do think it’s necessary.” Her hands wrapped around the tankard in front of her, and she took a gulp of the ale before placing it back down and frowning. Aveline was definitely in one of her moods, Varric would have to watch out for that. “I can trail behind you so they don’t suspect anything. I’ll even get some last minute patrols set up so there’s nearby support, if we need it.”

“Anders?” Garrett looked hopeful, grin spreading ear to ear. 

“I-” The feathered mage glanced at his hands, clenching and unclenching them in thought. With a sigh, he turned his eyes towards Garrett. “I guess… go? If we don’t and they are a threat, they’ll just come after us. At least this way, we are prepared… sort of.” Varric was fairly sure the blonde had only agreed because of how excited Hawke looked about this entire ordeal. No one could resist the Ferelden when he wagged his tail.

The bearded rogue grinned, throwing his hands down on the table excitedly. “Alright! Tonight then! Varric…” He looked over his friend with expectation, “are you coming?”

With a sigh, the dwarf nodded his head. It was hard to deny a request from that man. “I suppose passing up on stories of pre-pubescent Hawke is not wise for a story-teller, such as myself.” _Plus I have to watch your stupid ass._

“Great! So Varric, Anders, Isabela, Fenris-”

“Why me?” Fenris cut in, looking confused, and as always- broody. “I disagreed with this plan, remember?”

“Yeah well… Aveline will be behind us and I need someone with a sword to, you know… be threatening.”

Fenris frowned, brows furrowing. Honestly, his face was gonna get stuck that way if he wasn’t careful. Did he even know how to make another expression?

“Well, you don’t have to, I guess. I just was hoping…” Garrett shuffled his feet, giving a small sad smile. Maker, it was like the elf had just kicked a puppy. Varric stole a glance at Fenris’ face, chuckling to himself when it changed from irritated to uneasy. Not even the broody one could resist.

“Ugh. Fine. I’ll come.”

“Really?!” A disgusted noise from Anders made the mage the temporary object of distaste of both Hawke and Fenris. Ander’s flushed at Hawke’s scrutiny, but his expression remained abhorrent. 

“We _need_ support, Anders. I can try to take a hit, but you know better than anyone I’m not good at it.” The man shot an accusing finger towards his lover, “Besides, do you know anyone more intimidating than Fenris?”

A chorus of “Aveline” rang out from everyone but the woman herself. 

“ _Besides_ Aveline?” When no one spoke, Garrett nodded, “Right, that’s what I thought.” Standing from the chair, he rolled his shoulders and grinned happily around the table. “Alright, so those who agreed to the plan and Fenris, we’ll meet after sundown by the docks. Aveline, you…” He tilted his head, then rolled his hand in an encompassing gesture, “You do what you do best?” He settled on.

The red-headed woman grunted in understanding, then left the room after taking a final swig from her tankard. Everyone else followed quickly behind, and soon only Varric and Garrett were left in the room, Anders hovering by the door waiting for his lover.

“Now all I need is to get some wine.”

“And that handkerchief. What’s that about anyway?” Varric looked at him from over his mug, smiling mischievously. “You a crybaby and I didn’t know?”

Hawke scowled, “Not anymore.” After patting his pockets, Hawke disappeared through the door with a large grin and overly enthusiastic wave. _How the hell did I get stuck with this idiot? This very large and doofy idiot…_ Varric sighed, finishing off his drink and setting the empty mug on the table.

He had a lot of things to look into before tonight’s little adventure.


	2. He Ships It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian POV -  
> This is her right after she hurriedly got on a boat to head to Kirkwall. About a week before the last chapter took place.   
> Marian has joined a crew and is headed for the City of Chains, but...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not 100% satisfied with this chapter. Hopefully the next few will be a bit better.  
> I may or may not change a few things, we'll see.

Marian had traveled a lot in her life, to and fro Orlais, back and forth between Ferelden and the Free Marches. Most days she was alone, some days she found herself on a crew, and sometimes she even found a friend. Occasionally she had to get on a boat and that was always fun, at least, that’s what she told herself. 

She’d learned early on that shipmates were horny bastards, so in her experience, traveling as a man meant safer passage across the sea. Less questions asked, less men trying to grab at your clothes, and certainly less verbal abuse. So, of course, when she knew she had to travel across water to reach Kirkwall, she had masqueraded as a man. Keeping to herself, she talked little and made small work of heavy lifting that was often seen as being too difficult for a woman. She should have known her luck was bad, she should have predicted the horrible turn of events.

Marian was nauseous. 

It wasn’t because of the swelling tides and smelly sailors on deck, it wasn’t because of the mush they served for breakfast, lunch, _and_ dinner, it wasn’t because she had to share a room with two horny bearded dwarves every night.

No, no, it was the damn look in the Captain’s eyes and the way he licked his lips that made the woman sick. When she had removed the sweaty bandana from around her head and tied her hair back up with the singed material, he had almost fallen over the railing he was leaned against and into the sea. Honestly, she didn’t feel sick because he was into her, she wasn't that queasy, she was sick because she was deceiving to the poor man and he didn’t deserve that. It seems his tastes were a little different then she had predicted. She shouldn’t be surprised, really, he had been eyeing her since the moment she’d asked to board. 

Marian couldn’t really blame him for looking, she did make a rather handsome man once she'd bound her chest. Her face had always been rather angular, and her shoulder length black hair was shiny and healthy, tied out of her face more often than not. Her body was lithe despite the amount of muscle she had obtained, though she did her best to keep herself away from prying eyes. The crew all seemed to get along with her, if not completely adore her. She was pretty confident she could kick the ass of anyone on board and they’d thank her for it. Really, they respected her, and it was a nice feeling to be so highly valued.

“Mar!” A bellow from the captain snapped her back to reality, and Marian turned to look at him as straight-faced as she could. He was looking at her from the deck above, a bright blush tinting his cheeks.

The man was surprisingly shy despite his position. She had realized this only two days ago, when she had squeezed by him in the kitchens. A slight chest to chest brush and he was bright as a tomato and bumbling like an idiot. It was sort of adorable.

“Cap?” Marian called, leaning heavily on the broom handle in her hand. She had cleaning duty on deck today, and she always made sure to keep the floors clear, otherwise someone was ible to trip. 

“I- er... “ He scratched behind his ear, turning redder and redder by the moment. Marian sort of felt bad for him. “We need to talk…” He spun and walked briskly into his quarters, and Marian swallowed audibly. Was this about his little crush? She smiled as she passed her broom over to Dale, the little elf boy who’d she’d grown to befriend in the past weeks. He was a good worker, and he was pretty clever for only being thirteen. She couldn’t help but think of her own siblings despite the fact that he was not similar to any of them. His tanned face was covered in freckles and his hair was bright blonde, completely opposite of the black haired, unfreckled, and paler siblings she remembered.

“I’ll be back, Dale.”

He gave her a nod and a small smile before disappearing from view.

After a deep breath she ascended the stairs, making sure to nod at a few shipmates before ducking into the Captain Quarters. There was a large desk against the right wall, and a small bed with a canopy against the left. The back of the room was made of thick glass to be easily seen out of, but not easily shattered. Though it had a few spots of grim and bird-shit from the outside, the glass was in pretty good shape despite the several storms they had already encountered. 

The Captain sat on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, only looking up when the wood creaked as she shut the door. His face was still bright and he avoided Marian’s eyes as he scanned the desk across the room. 

“I um…”

_Act dumb Mar, you don’t have any clue what this is about._ “You alright, Cap? Sick?” She had learned to pitch her voice a little lower, but it still wasn’t exactly masculine. Luckily, no one seemed to notice or even care.

“No! I’m not sick, I just… wanted to ask…” He looked down at the floor and scratched at his hair, the curly auburn spirals coming loose from their ringlets. “I wanted to ask…” He tried again, and Marian could see his mouth turn down and his face brighten. _Hm… maybe I should step in._

“The decks’ll be clear within the hour, Carl, Dale, and a few others are working the kitchen with Fassy, under is all organized and Jay is keeping it that way, and Harb and the rest of the crew are working the deck.Nothing to worry about, Cap.” Marian smiled, tilting her head to the side to gesture to the hatch leading back up to the deck. “All good?”

“No that’s not what I… Maker. Can you sit for a second?” He waved a hand to the chair by his desk and smiled shyly. _Damnit Marian, no going against Captain’s orders._

“Alright…” She sat down on the leather cushion, wooden structure squeaking under her weight. 

“Okay, so…” He looked at her, face still colored but seeming much more confident. His hands were clasped together, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned towards her. “You are a valuable member of the crew. You know this, yes?”

Marian nodded hesitantly, leaning as far back in the chair as she could.

He sighed, “I’ve heard you are only staying on until Kirkwall, which is now only a few days away... is there something there for you?”

Marian debated whether to tell him she was searching for someone, but she decided to not reveal that. She trusted the man, but a few people on the crew were sketchy at best. So, she shrugged noncommittally, offering a vague “Kind of.”

He frowned then nodded, once again looking at the ground between them. “Well, I wanted you to know… you have a place here. I mean… I would love if you would stay.” He chuckled keeping his eyes cast down as he sat up. “You’d…” the man looked back up at her and ran a hand over his beard. “I’d really like it if you’d be under me.” Marian fought the urge to laugh out loud as his face suddenly twisted into horror.

“Oh! No- I didn’t mean- oh Maker…” His head fell between his knees and Marian suddenly regretted the fact that she had lied to him at all. There was just too much at stake now though, she’d have to see this through. 

“I meant I’d like you to be my Quartermaster. The crew has never worked better, and… and everyone loves you.” He finally turned his face back up, but his red color had returned full force. Marian suspected that ‘the crew loves you’ thing meant something a little deeper to him.

And it was with a heavy heart she had to refuse him. Honestly, she would love to be a part of a crew like this and just sail the seas, but… she had things to do, people to find and protect. This was a fantasy until further notice.

“I- I’m real flattered, Cap. Really, I am. I just… can’t.” They both frowned, and Marian continued. “You’re the best Cap I’ve had, and I want to, but… there’s something I’ve gotta take care of.”

He watched her for a long time, face back to a somewhat normal shade of color and expression a little sad. A few moments of silence passed before he gave her a slight nod. “It’s… it’ll be okay.” He sounded as if he was reassuring himself more than her, and she felt a pain deep in her gut. This was some nasty business, but it was possible they could both gain a friend from this. 

“Would ya’ mind if… if I write you?” She asked, smiling slightly. He blinked in surprise and then his cheeks colored again and he laughed. 

“Yeah… yeah. That’d be nice.” He sighed, leaning back with his hands on either side of him. They smiled at each other for a while longer before he cleared his throat. “Alright, you may… you may go.”

She nodded and hopped up, “Thanks, Cap.”

“Uh- Samuel. Please… call me Samuel.”

She quirked her head to the side and gave a short snort, “Don’t think that’ll work on deck, but… letters definitely, and _maybe_ when we are talking like this.” Though she knew she’d never technically lied about her identity, she suddenly felt like shit for not telling him. He deserved the truth. She’d tell him eventually, before she left perhaps, or maybe in a letter. 

“Y-yeah.” He smiled. 

“Okay, I’m back to sweeping... Samuel.” She chuckled, heading out the hatch in a hurry. She didn’t have to look back to see his face was red, she knew.

But at least she’d made a friend.


	3. Meet and Greet and Don't Tear Out Her Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris is skeptical about meeting the person who sent them a letter. When they do, he's not quite sure what to do with this new information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG ASS CHAPTER. 
> 
> And I am REALLY sorry about the delay. I just got my first job and it's been a little crazy. I also rewrote this chapter at least seven times and it never came out right... hopefully the length will make up for the delay. Again, sorry guys! And thank you all SO MUCH for the comments & kudos! I'm so damn excited every time I see them, and I received a lot more then I thought I would! You guys are amazing! C:
> 
> Only one chapter for now (since it's super long and I wanted to get _something_ out for you) but I am working on the other one now, so hopefully soon?

Fenris was no stranger to weeping men. Believe it or not, crying seemed to be a normal reaction to having your heart literally held in someone else’s hands. He understood tears of pain, fear, frustration, he’d shed some of his own, albeit never in front of anyone. Release, venting, whatever a person called it, Fenris understood that sometimes you just needed to cry. It wasn't unusual, and he certainly didn't think anyone's tears would ever _surprise_ him. He was so wrong.

The elf had known Hawke for the better part of four years, and he had never seen the man cry. Not a tear shed when his brother left for the templars, not when he had been celebrating his sibling’s name day without them, and not on any death anniversary the man had told the group about. Hawke was a gentle and kind man, but one that did not weep for things that happened in the past. He moved on, and while Fenris wasn’t sure he could ever be like that, he respected it.

Perhaps that is why he found himself so surprised.

When Fenris had arrived after dawn, it had been unusually quiet. More often than not, he could spot gangs wandering the alleyways of the docks waiting to prey on new arrivals. It was especially common with the winter season rearing it's head, the cold always brought promise of people filtering into the warmth (or lack, thereof) of the city. But tonight, not a soul could be seen, and it certainly had him on edge. 

Fenris had been the first to arrive, shortly followed by Isabela and Merrill. While the two had chatted away about the possibilities of hearing about a child-Hawke, Fenris had kept watch of the area. Honestly, he didn’t understand how he had gotten himself involved in this plan, but here he was. There were a million and one things he could be doing right now, but Hawke had this way of making people feel bad even when they did nothing wrong. Fenris wasn’t sure if he admired the skill or detested it, it had gotten them out of sticky situations more than once.

The rest of their party arrived after a few minutes chatting without a care in the world, their weapons put away. The girls had put away their weapons almost immediately after they had arrived, but Fenris continued to stay on guard with his sword drawn. there was just _something_ about tonight, about this letter and meeting, that had Fenris tense.

“I think you made the right choice bringing Broody here, Garrett. He’s certainly fulfilling his role of ‘threatening companion’.” The dwarf chuckled, eyeing the elf with a mischievous eye. Varric had been pretty relaxed since arriving, something Fenris wasn’t sure of. Was it an act? He had seemed rather tense earlier when they had discussed coming, but now he didn’t seem to mind. Was he afraid someone was watching him? Had he noticed the lack of activity as well?

“Well, that _was_ the point, wasn’t it?” Garrett grinned, giving the elf a little thumbs up before turning back to continue his march through the streets. Fenris would never say it, but it was kind of sweet how the rogue tried to reassure everyone they were doing good at their task. He tried to make everyone feel good, and though Fenris and him were often at odds, he still considered the man his friend, or at least as damn close as he could get. Anders, on the other hand…

“He’s no different than ever, if you ask me. Just as bad-tempered, tense, and uncivil as usual...” The mage was pouting, and Fenris had to hold back a smirk. Anders so easily got jealous sometimes, Fenris didn't understand how Garrett and him had gotten together. The rogue had the whole city eating from the palm of his hand, everyone swooned at the sight of the man, and then there was Anders, a man who was supposedly charming at one point, turned disagreeable and annoying and just downright bitter. And those were his good traits.

But that was none of Fenris’ business. 

“And that’s why he’s perfect for the job, Anders! You can’t deny that.” Garrett shot Anders a little look and offered his hand to the mage. Anders, of course, took the man’s hand and gave a sigh of defeat as he came to walk side by side with his lover.

It honestly felt just like any other patrol they had done, and Fenris couldn’t quite understand what had him so tense. Maybe it was the mystery of the meeting, or… he really wasn’t sure. All he knew, is that he had a bad feeling about it.

The group was relatively silent as they made their way through the docks. Only the occasional comment from Varric to Hawke, or from Hawke to Anders could be heard. Fenris didn’t often talk when they were walking around like this, so when Isabela sidled up to him, he had been a little surprised. 

“Hey, are you worried?” 

He wasn’t sure how to answer that question. Worried? No, he wasn’t worried, he was being _cautious_.

“Not particularly. I just… have a feeling.”

The pirate chuckled, giving his arm a little reassuring squeeze. Fenris did his best to fight off the urge of shrinking back or snapping at her, she was trying to make him feel better, he had to remember that. Touching was a normal thing between friends, and despite what he had learned, it wasn’t a punishment.

“Me too.” She let her smile drop a fraction as she leaned into him, “I mean, we’ve responded to letters before, but this person _knows_ our little Garrett. I’m worried.” She pulled back and gave him a small smile. “But we’ll watch him.” It wasn’t a discussion. Fenris would watch after the man whether asked to or not, and so would Isabela. They owed him that much at least. They all did.

“What’re you whispering about back there, Rivaini? Not Bianca, I hope...” Varric looked over his shoulder at them, and Fenris shook his head.

“No, just your backside.” Isabela stepped away, giving the elf a wink before sashaying towards the front of the group. He hadn't realized it before, believing her to be as carefree as always, but she was definitely keeping her hands near her daggers. 

“Right, were deliberating whether or not it’d be as hairy as your chest.” 

“Are we making bets? I’ll bet a sovereign it’s even hairier.” Anders added, “Though I don’t know if I’d want to see the proof…”

“None of you are betting on my backside, and I’m definitely not _showing_ it.” The dwarf shook his head with a laugh. “Speaking of backside… Hawke, I hear you have another admirer?”

The rogue visibly tensed and let out a little sigh. “Apparently… some little girl has been asking after me. She even came to the Hanged Man. _The Hanged Man_ , Varric! That is _no_ place for a child.” 

“Sweet-thing, everyone knows that’s where they can find you. Are you really so surprised?” Isabela smirked, “But you’re right. Babes shouldn’t be going to the Hanged Man. It’s a shitty place.”

“Especially with language like that.” Varric teased. 

Garrett shook his head dejectedly. “And she was asking the weirdest questions too…”

Varric shot a curious glance towards the man, “What was she asking about?”

“Where I’m from, specifically. I told her Ferelden, but she was very insistent I tell her exactly where I had been. And then she asked about my family, my _siblings_! Carver would be pleased, maybe she was a fan of him, not me?” Garrett shrugged, “Oh, and then she asked after my dog.” He sighed again, glancing over at Varric, “What a strange little girl she was.”

Varric looked deep in thought and gave a little hum of agreement. Whatever he was thinking about, it didn't look too pleasant. “When did she show up?”

“Two nights ago, haven’t seen her since.”

Varric gave Isabela a look, and they both seemed to communicate something silently. She pursed her lips in contemplation, “Probably an informant… why about his dog though?” 

Varric frowned, “Who knows… maybe that was her own add in, to make it less suspicious?” The dwarf turned to a very confused looking Hawke, “How old?”

Garrett looked between Isabela and Varric with a puzzled look. “Maybe… seven? What do you mean an informant?” When he didn't get an immediate answer, he grabbed Isabela’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “Hey, what did you mean?”

Fenris frowned, joining in the conversation. “What kind of informant asks questions like that?”

The pirate looked his way with a shrug, “I don’t know…” Her eyes peered over his shoulder a moment before she gave a little smile. “Perhaps we should ask?” Fenris looked behind him towards the alley there. A young girl, no older than ten, stood hidden in the shadows watching them with scrutiny. She looked rather ragged, skirt torn at the knees, and holes in her sleeves, but upon closer inspection, Fenris noted the clean hair and face. He would have said she came from Darktown, but now, perhaps not.

“This your admirer, Hawke?” Varric questioned, slowly stepping towards the girl. She didn’t shrink back, and Fenris had to admire the look of challenge in her eyes. She certainly had spirit.

“Yeah, that’s her. Hey, um… Carrie, was it?”

“Carmen.” She mumbled, stepping out into the light. “It’s Carmen. I was wondering when you’d notice.”

The group gave each other a look, had she been following them the whole time? No one had realized? 

“Carmen, right...” Garrett gave a gentle smile, “What’re you doing out here? It’s late.” 

“I wanted to watch what happened when you met her.” She said it matter of factly, sniffing a bit and rubbing the back of her hand against her nose.

“Her who?” Varric questioned. 

Isabela was creeping up closer to the girl, obviously being cautious not to spook her. Fenris didn’t think the girl was the type to be spooked, but he didn’t make a comment. When the pirate got close enough, the girl took a step back, not in fear, but in warning. Another step and she’d disappear. 

“You’ll see.” She smiled happily, seemingly pleased with herself. She pointed a little ways away where another alley was. “She’s over there.”

Fenris remembered the alley, it’s where gangs frequently congregated. It was almost always occupied, but it looked rather dark now. This seemed like a trap, and he shook his head at Garrett, a frown pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Don’t tell me you intend to go in there?”

Garrett looked both puzzled and determined, and that was never a good combination. It was a look he frequently gave before jumping headlong into trouble. The rogue gave a once over the group, and pulled out his daggers. 

“I’m going.”

With a sigh, Varric pulled out his crossbow, followed by Anders and Merrill pulling their staffs off their backs. They gave a little nod, although Anders seemed reluctant to continue this plan. No one was quite sure what to expect.

Isabela glanced towards the group then shook her head with a smile. Kneeling down where she stood, she addressed the little girl. “Thanks for the information, Kitten. Can you tell us anything else…?” She prompted.

The girl shrugged, “She’s nice.” 

“Well that wasn't very helpful information.” Anders grumbled, looking back towards the alley. 

“Thanks, Kitten.” Isabela stood and finally pulled out her daggers, calmly walking to the group. “You think this is our letter sender?”

“I’d be surprised if it wasn’t.” Varric looked the little girl over once more before looking back towards the alley. No one was paying attention to Carmen any longer, but she remained behind the group looking around at them curiously. Fenris still kept his eye on her. 

“Let’s go find out?” Garrett began to make his way towards the alley, and Fenris and the rest followed after him. The girl trailed behind them, skipping along happily with a smile. 

What was she doing out here, and where did all the people go? Fenris glanced towards the girl, “Where is everyone?”

Carmen looked at him, and tilted her head. “That lady didn’t say where they went.”

“Lady?”

The girl pointed towards the alley again then seemed to be thinking of something before she reached out for Fenris’ hand. He pulled his limbs away before she could touch him and made his way to the front of the group. He was hardly comfortable with Isabela touching him, there was no way he was going to let a strange little girl hold his hand.

They had reached the alley and Fenris could see a flicker of a torch, but not much else. All was quiet as they stepped into the cove, everyone’s weapons drawn, and all eyes sweeping the area. 

There was a beat up pack sitting in the corner with a bedroll laid next to it, but no one was around. Fenris turned back to the little girl with a snarl, and she looked puzzled as she searched the area along with the rest of the group.

“She was here! I swear!” The girl seemed frazzled, running to check under the bedroll, and then in the darkest corner. “She… I-”

“Oh fuck.”

Fenris had never heard that voice before. 

The group all spun towards the entrance of the alley, weapons ready and pointed in the voice’s direction. A hooded woman stood alone, and she slowly raised her hands in surrender, no weapons in sight. 

“You alone?” Varric questioned, keeping Bianca trained on her, but eyeing the roofs around them. 

“Ah, yeah. We weren’t supposed to meet here... ha!” The woman laughed happily, completely unphased by everyone’s weapons. In fact she seemed… relieved? He couldn't see her face, but her _tone_ was light, uncaring, unburdened. 

Fenris noted Garrett beside him slowly begin to lower his weapons, and he wondered why. Did the man recognize her?

“Mind if I lower my hood?” She asked, using one of her hands to touch the top of her cloak. Varric glanced at Hawke who seemed to be a little dazed, but gave a noise in affirmation.

“I uh… did you bring the wine?” She asked with a smirk, grabbing the cloak’s hood and pulling it away from her face. The woman was tanned by the sun, and it made the little scars on her angular face much more evident. Her black hair was pulled back by some red material, and Fenris could just barely make out the color of her eyes, a dark golden hue. Her face and hair looked clean while the rest of her seemed dusty, but there was also something… familiar. Fenris wasn’t sure what to make of it. 

He heard Garrett give a little gasp, and the elf cringed when he heard the sharp pang of the rogue’s daggers hitting stone. Fenris warily took his eyes off the woman and looked at his companion. Hawke was usually so careful with his things, he never dropped his weapons, and there were… were those _tears_? The alley was silent as everyone watched him.

“Hawke? ...Do you need a hug?” Merrill took a step closer to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. He hiccupped, and placed a hand over his mouth, still staring at the woman with eyes of wonder. Anders looked at Garrett with about as much puzzlement as Fenris felt.

Garrett was crying… he was _crying_! Hawke never cried! Who was this woman to make Hawke cry like this? Fenris eyed her suspiciously, as she lowered her hands and looked on with conflicted features. It seemed Fenris wasn’t the only one who didn’t know what to do.

“It’s been too long, Gare.” She mumbled with a gentle smile. Garrett sobbed, assumingly at the nickname, and covered his face with his hands. She cleared her throat a little and finally seemed to take in her surroundings. No one had their weapons pointed at her anymore, but they were all still drawn. “Did you bring the handkerchief?”

Hawke seemed to laugh at that, even though it was hard to tell with all the sobbing. He pulled a small cloth square from his back pocket and tried to wipe away his tears. Fenris understood now why the woman had told him to bring one… he was a weeping mess. 

“So… ‘Gare’...” Isabela began, looking at him with some weird mix of sympathy, concern, and amusement, “Mind telling us what’s going on... and who this is?”

“Yeah, I think that’s something we’d all _love_ to know.” Anders glowered at the women, and Fenris, for once, was understanding of his reaction. Whoever this woman was, she seemed far too nonchalant and comfortable despite the situation. She was outnumbered and had no weapons, and what was she so damned happy about?

The stranger smiled happily, watching Garrett closely. “Would you like to introduce me to your friends? Or shall I?” 

Hawke shook his head and seemed to be unable to control himself as he launched at the woman. And it took Fenris (and seemingly everyone else) a moment to realize he wasn't attacking her. He actually seemed to tuck under her, and she wound her arms around his back in a hug. She was embracing him as a parent would a child… not even Hawke’s _mother_ was that affectionate with him.

What the hell was going on?

Garrett sobbed into the woman’s shoulder and she patted his back tenderly with a somehow sad smile on her face. No one spoke for a long moment, but Fenris felt a tug at his armor. He had completely forgotten about the child, and as he glanced towards the girl, eyebrow raised in question. She tugged again, and Fenris got the impression she wanted him to kneel.

When his knee hit the floor, she leaned in to whisper. “She’s been looking for him a really long time...”

“Has she?” He questioned, eyeing the woman from a far. She apparently could hear them as she shot him a look Fenris couldn’t quite read. She smiled a little then, and his nerves prickled with caution.

“She said I was younger then when she started.”

Fenris hummed as he continued watching the pair. The woman was patting Garrett’s back now, sighing a little. “We can cry later, I promise, but that guy is giving me some dirty looks, Gare…” She and Anders were watching each other, and she was right, not even Fenris could recall a time the mage had glared at _him_ in that way.

Hawke took a few deep breaths, trying to control himself, and even Fenris could see he was having a hard time. He hiccupped and sniffled, and there were still tears flowing down his face. But he was insistent, and after a moment he stood a little straighter and turned towards the group to speak.

“Guys… this is,” The rogue rubbed at his eyes and released a breath to calm himself. Fenris had half a mind to make the woman speak in his place, but Garrett just seemed so… determined. He couldn’t step in. “...this is Marian.” He finished and gave a shaky laugh. 

When no one really reacted to the name, the woman gave a snort. “I take it they don’t know about your dead sister, then?”

Fenris frowned. He’d heard plenty about Bethany, what did _she_ have to do with anything? 

At Garrett’s shake of his head, the woman gave a dramatic sigh. “Figures. Here I am, hearing all sorts of stories about you, but you can’t even tell your friends _one_ about me.” She clicked her tongue in mock disapproval and patted the man’s cheek. 

“You’re… his sister?” Varric questioned, blinking in surprise. 

Fenris now understood why she looked so familiar to him. The slope of her nose, _her hair_ , they were all Garrett’s too. 

The woman grinned and gave a nod before bowing dramatically. “Marian Hawke, at your service.”

Fenris wasn’t sure what to do anymore.


	4. Baby Beat-down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nine year old Marian learns her brother is being bullied and decides to take matters into her own hands...
> 
> A.K.A. Little children fight like adults and a cinnamon roll cries a little

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly to give you insite into how Marian & Garrett were as children together. One punching her problems away (I swear she's purple, not red), and the other being too nice and gentle and a baby.
> 
> I'm so done making excuses. I had a PLAN, really, I did. Then I wrote the chapter over over and over and OVER in different ways and it entirely changed from fresh-off-the-boat to a baby-Marian flashback??? My characters are getting away from me, the story is rapidly transforming, and ideas are sprouting and I'm also a little in SOlavellan HELL so I'm trying to start up another fic as we speak ahaHAHHA
> 
> I'm not sleep deprived, you are.  
> Also, I'm not gonna lie, I've never written a damn fight scene in my LIFE. 
> 
> This whole thing is a mess and I am sorry, and I promise I am not stopping this fic any time soon. I just have very small frames of time where I'm somewhat proud of my writing enough to publish, and they come and go as they please. 
> 
> I love you all so much, and if you'd like to yell at me, please feel free to do so @ my trendy, hip, totes not lame tumblr!  
> gulpygrif.tumblr.com (main blog, random humor crap & other)  
> maamatus.tumblr.com (DA blog)
> 
> Also, again, thank you all SO MUCH FOR KUDOS AND COMMENTS!!!! !!! !!!!!!! It really reminds/motivates me to continue, so as always, they are SO appreciated!!

Fire was primal and strong, and it was also delicate- one gust of wind and fire could blow out. But it was not a force to be reckoned with, wind or no, not without care. It was a force of nature, and it would consume you or the environment around you if you could not learn to control it. One spark could destroy a forest, one flicker could ruin a city. Such a dangerous unpredictable thing...

...and she had _mastered_ it!

Marian had been studying magic seriously for four years now, but it was all little things, covert things that wouldn’t give her away to Templars. Most of it was trivial knowledge, navigating the Fade, resisting demons, protecting herself with barriers, minor healing spells, setting simple protective wards. But her father had taken her out to learn something new, and not only did she _learn_ it, she had _conquered_ it!

Within seven hours of training, she had performed fire magic with more proficiency than her own father, and he had been a mage for _much_ longer. He had joked, teased, challenged her when she started earlier in the day, but who was laughing now?! She had beaten him at his own game, and the look on his face when the lesson was over and she had walked away was _priceless_. 

And _Maker_ was she ready to brag about it. 

“Gare!!” The cabin door opened with a creak, the wooden floors beneath her groaned at the weight of her shifting feet. It was a fairly large house, three bedrooms, a kitchen, an outhouse, and even a den. All of it was covered in squeeky panels of wood, but Marian didn’t mind so much. At least no Templars could sneak in and steal her away.

They had been living in this strange little town for months, and Marian was happy for it. There was a cave nearby for practicing magic, and they had a lot of land to run and play on. Of course, lots of land meant lots of responsibilities, animals and plants to tend to, but that was the price of a good house. A good house with a town near enough for supplies, but far enough for privacy. 

It was better than the shared rooms in the cramped apartment they had previously, anyway.

She glided through the rooms, catching sight of her brother’s dark mop of hair at the kitchen table. Her mother was by the window, glancing out at some daydream or another (as she often did with her free time). Marian skipped to her brother, a cocky grin spreading from ear to ear.

“You’ll _never_ guess what-- what happened to your face?” Marian didn’t hesitate to reach for him and examine the darkening mark on his cheeks, her grin quickly turning into a frown.

He hissed, but made no move to shake her off. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Marian! Language!” Her mother disapproved, but then, she disapproved of _everything_ Marian did.

“Did you hit them back?” 

“No”

Marian sighed, “Why not?”

“I don’t like fighting…” He mumbled, turning his bruised cheek away from her. It only gave her a better view of his split lip. “Anyway, Mama said if I ignore them, they’d go away.”

“You need to fight back, Gare! Bullies don’t just go away!”

“Don’t encourage violence, Marian! If he ignores them, they will lose interest and go away _without_ you having to sink to their level! You don’t need to fight everyone in Thedas!” 

“Mama, they’re bullies! They aren’t gonna stop!” Marian and her mother glared at one another a moment before she turned back to her brother. “Who was it, Gare?”

The room was silent, Garrett’s gaze flicking between his mother and Marian. He looked confused, conflicted, and Marian felt bad, but only a little. Her mother was wrong, whatever she thought. Marian would bet her new staff she’d never been bullied, she was too pretty and perfect and she didn’t have any scars like Marian did. Marian knew better then her mother how to deal with bullies.

“It was the the neighbor boys…” Garrett mumbled, glancing down at his hands defeated. Marian could see her mother looking at them disappointed, but she didn’t care. If her mother wouldn’t protect Garrett, she would.

“Which ones? There’s a lot.”

“All of them.”

 _All of them?_ “Even Roddie?”

“No, not Roddie.”

Marian hummed, grasping Garrett’s hand in her own. She squeezed it reassuringly, like he did for her when she couldn’t get a spell right. She didn’t understand why, but it always made her feel a little better. She gave him a bright smile, “By town?”

Garrett shook his head, “There’s _five_ of them, Marian! You can’t fight them all!”

“Cause I’m a girl?” She challenged, placing her free hand on her hip.

“No!” He shook his head and grabbed her hand with both of his. It was gentle, her brother was always very gentle. “We shouldn’t fight them, Marian.” 

“Well, _we_ won’t! You won’t be fighting anyone!” She tugged at his hand forcefully and pulled him after her. Before their mother could protest, Marian sped out of the house and ran towards town with Garrett in tow. Her father would wonder where she had run off to when he got back, and she _might_ be in trouble when she got home, but maybe not. Her dad was always very protective, and perhaps he would understand and even agree with her actions. He was very unpredictable.

Her brother didn’t fight with her on the way there, and he answered her questions about what happened easily enough, but once the boys came into view he became stiff and stubborn.

“Marian! We really shouldn’t--”

“Not _we_! Me!” She grinned confidently, and marched straight to the group of boys who sat on the fence in town. They were always trying to compete, and Marian thought they were petty and ridiculous with their spit matches and races. 

“Oi! Back for more?” The oldest boy said that, he was eleven. He was lankier than any of the others, with bright blue eyes and blonder hair than that yellow cat Marian used to feed in the barn. He stood from the fence then, and disgustingly spat on the ground next to him. Intimidation? Yeah, right.

“Your sister gonna nag us? Oh we are _scared_!” Brian said that, he was the second oldest at ten. The rest of the group laughed as he mimed shaking in his boots, and Marian considered changing her plans just to knock him off his feet first.

No, she had a plan. Give them a chance to repent, not that they deserved it, then attack the strongest first. 

“Say you’re sorry to him and promise you’ll never hit another kid again.” She stopped about three lunges away from them, standing tall and proud like her papa would have. 

They laughed, and one of them even spat in her direction. What was their fascination with spit? It was gross.

“Or what, Girly? Gonna nag us to death?” They laughed again and Marian suppressed her urge to sigh. 

“Close your eyes, Gare.”

“No.”

“Oi, I asked you what you were gonna do! Gonna run and get your mommy?”

It took her all of two seconds to tackle the oldest boy and begin pounding on his face. He yelped, trying to grab for her wrists, but her papa had trained her how to avoid all sorts of grips and how to escape them. He wouldn’t be able to get her. She heard a bone crack in his nose and he cried out in pain, then she smacked a hand over his ear and he cried even louder.

Brian and his brother grabbed her arms and tried to pull her off of the oldest boy, but she got in a nice punch to the mouth before they managed it. They pulled her away until her ass was on the ground and her clothes covered with a dusting of dirt. She also noticed blood staining her sleeves. Oh, Mama was going to be very cross with her...

She’d already done quite a bit of damage to the oldest boy’s face though, blood was beginning to pour from his nose and his split lip. He seemed a little off balance as he staggered off the ground (most likely because she had slapped him in the ear). Her papa had taught her the weak spots on any man: groin, foot, eyes, throat, ears, and of course the privates. She always went for the eyes and ears first if she could, they were the worst in her opinion. He was on his feet now, and he stumbled and cried out “You bitch!” before lunging for her. 

By now the others had stepped away to let the oldest boy take care of her, a matter of honor she supposed. She was ready for him, and she rolled out of the way just in time so he tripped and fell where she had been moments before. She pounced on him again and kicked her knee into his crotch forcefully before standing in a rush. He was curled into a ball by the time she was on her feet, she knew there was no way he was getting up any time soon. 

One down.

Brian came next, and so did his brother. She’d never taken two at a time, but it couldn’t be too hard, could it? _They’re both stupid anyway_ , she supposed.

They both tackled her, and she grimaced when one of them hit her right in the stomach while the other scrambled for her arms. She couldn’t breath for a second, but she reflexively kicked up and hit one of the boys, catching her knee in his groin. He was crying as he rolled off of her.

Two down.

The one reaching for her arms gave up and just started trying to punch her, but he was slow and predictable, and Marian grabbed both of his hands tightly in hers and headbut him.

She regretted that immediately after when her head throbbed painfully. But his nose was bleeding now, and he looked disorientated as he tried to pry his hands away from her grip. She pushed him over and rolled away, standing on her own feet in record time. The boy tried to get up, but ended up stumbling and tripping right back into the dirt. He just sort of lay there for a moment before lifting his hands in defeat and closing his eyes. 

Three down.

One of the boys was _literally_ shaking in his boots now, but the other one was smiling and holding up his hands for a fight. She held up her hands too, and the two began circling each other. Making the first move was only good with surprises, not when the opponent was ready for you. 

Obviously, the boy hadn’t learned that.

He was fast, and he clocked her in the mouth before she could dodge the punch. It hurt, but she stayed upright and punched him hard in the gut in retaliation. He sputtered and stepped away from her, and they once again began circling each other. The shaking boy had run off towards the town from what she saw, and Marian spotted Garrett wide eyed over the fighting boy’s shoulder. She did her best to smile at him, but her jaw was a little numb and it probably came out crooked and bloody. 

In her distraction the boy had tried to grab at her, but she swerved out of reach. They were about equal speeds, a fair fight overall. He tried again and kicked his leg out to trip her, and once again she swerved just out of reach. 

“That the best you can do?” She challenged. The boy hissed and she snickered as he once again reached for her and she dodged out of the way.

“Coward! Quit dodging!” He was getting frustrated. Good. Frustration makes people sloppy. It made smart people do stupid things, and stupid people do even dumber things. Her papa had told her that. _”Besides, antagonizing people is fun!”_ And then her mother had yelled at them both about making more enemies then they already had, and Papa had to sleep in her room that night because Mama had been mad at him. 

Marian never did forget the lesson though.

And so she antagonized.

“I’m not _dodging_ , you’re just very slow! It’s more like just stepping in the right direction? To avoid violence? I’m a pacifist, you know.” He lunged again and she danced just out of his reach. “ _Maker_ , you are so ssllllloooowww.”

“I’ll show you slow…!” And that is exactly what she was waiting for. As he reached forward she ducked and leapt for his legs. They fell like a log together, Marian landing in a heap on top of the boy and elbowing him in the stomach as he pulled at her hair. She groaned and punched and kicked at him, and he just did his best to block her attacks.

At some point he just gave up blocking and tried to push her off, but she wouldn’t relent. 

“Say you’re sorry!” She retched herself from his grip and hit him in the eye. “Say you’ll never do it again!” He whimpered pitifully as he was hit in the gut. A cough, then he began shaking beneath her. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! We’ll never… never again, I swear to the Maker!” His arms raised to protect his face and he looked genuinely terrified of her. She stopped immediately at his words, fist raised halfway in the air.

“...You swear to the Maker?”

“We swear it!”

“...Never again?”

“Never!”

It was quiet for a beat, then she rolled off of him and into the dirt in exhaustion. “Good. That’s all I wanted.” 

The boy stood up and stumbled to help his friends up as soon as he was free of her. She watched warily as they sped back towards town. 

She’d never fought that many boys before, but she had beat them, and that’s all that mattered in the end. She heaved a sigh then made a move to stand, wincing at the pounding protest of her head and the limpness of her jaw. She spit out some blood into the dirt beside her and cringed at the sight. There was a baby tooth in there. “ _So gross._ ” 

“Marian!” Garrett was frantic as he came to her, eyes searching worriedly over her form. “We need to get you home! Papa can-”

“Yeah, yeah.” She sighed again, and touched her temples to soothe the throbbing migraine. Her fingers glowed a light yellow as she called upon her mana for a minor healing spell. There wasn’t anyone around, it was worth the risk if she could get rid of this headache. 

“Marian!” Garrett hissed, grabbing her wrist, somehow still gentle despite the firmness of the hold. “You can’t-”

“Oh quiet. There’s no one around and it’s just a _little_ spell.” His grip tightened, but he let her finish before he pulled her hand away from her face and used it to tug her along the road going home. 

It was silent until the house came into view, and then Garrett let out a terse. “You didn’t need to.” His voice was shaky, and Marian watched his back carefully as he used his free arm to wipe his eyes.

She thought a moment, squeezed his hand in her’s then grinned as much as she could manage. She was never really good with tears, or sympathy, or empathy, or anything similar really, so she actively chose to ignore it all and change topics. 

“Guess what!”

“Marian-” He began, but she interrupted before he could make any remarks. About her ignoring the situation, about her being reckless, or _blah, blah, blah_ , whatever he was thinking about. He could be such a stick-in-the-mud sometimes...

“I can do fire spells! Even better than Papa!” She boasted, puffing her chest up in pride. 

He snorted, his voice still gravely from tears. But he took the bait and let the topic change. “Papa is the best mage in the world, no way you can-”

“I’ll show you! When we get home, I’ll light the fire-pit and show you how good I am!”

He shook his head, but she could see a smile on his lips as he reached for their front door. And that smile was all she really needed to know he was okay.

She would protect him, no matter what.


	5. A Drink's Worth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Garrett has questions but he can't ask them because he keeps crying and/or his sister dodges the question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update! A lot of dialogue, because I LOVE dialogue, but here is a chapter for you because I wanted to get this out.  
> If you see any errors, let me know! (This goes for all chapters) But it is 3:30am and I have work tomorrow, so ha, haha wish me luck~
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and once again: thank you for comments and kudos! You guys are fantastic!!!! <3

He still couldn’t quite believe it. His sister, his _dead_ sister was sitting right in front of him and she... she wasn’t dead. She was alive… she was _alive_! Garrett couldn’t keep his emotions in check, but he didn’t really care. She was alive after ten years of thinking she was dead, and he was sobbing, and he was squeezing her hand and it was _real_.

They were back in Varric’s suite at The Hanged Man, having moved the party after a few introductions were made between the group. Aveline had joined them briefly before saying she would catch up later once she had sorted out the patrols. Everyone besides Sebastian, though, was in the room with them. Garrett hadn’t stopped crying really, but he was no longer _sobbing_ at least.

“Okay, so...” Varric’s voice was curious, and Garrett wondered what he was about to ask. He didn’t take his eyes off his sister, though. He was afraid the moment he looked away she’d disappear like it was all a dream. “Was Hawke-”

“Before I answer any questions, I demand a drink.” Marian smirked, wagging a finger at the dwarf with a mischievous look in her eyes. “And not that wine you brought, that shit is fucking _bitter_. I’m disappointed in your tastes, Garrett.” She smiled a little then and offered him a wink.

Her smile wasn’t the same as it used to be, he noticed. 

Garrett squeezed her hand a little, and she glanced at him surprised for a moment before squeezing back reassuringly. Then she actually smiled, just like she used to. It only lasted a second before her eyes turned back towards Varric and her mouth changed _just so_ that it wasn’t quite right.

He was heaving in deep breaths between tears, his only saving grace being Anders gently rubbing circles into his back.

He hadn’t cried like this in years, he’d forgotten how exhausting crying was.

“Fair enough,” the dwarf agreed, waving over a serving girl and ordering some drinks for them all. “I think a reunion like this one deserves some celebration. I’m buying.”

“Oh, I like you already!” Marian grinned leaning back against her chair and resting her free arm behind her head. “I am ready for any and most questions. Ask away!” 

Garrett had a lot of questions. Where had she been? How had she survived? Why hadn’t she come back sooner? Was she staying? His head ached with every query he had, but he couldn’t quite get the words out before Isabela spoke.

“Are you interested in sex?”

Marian laughed loudly at that, glancing towards Isabela with a large smirk plastered on her lips. “Depends who’s asking and how many drinks I’ve had.”

Isabela hummed then sat a little more… flirtatiously in her chair. He could only see her halfway in his peripheral, Garrett was still afraid to take his eyes off of his sister, but she was leaning so her bust looked fuller. Garrett’s tastes didn’t quite include Isabela, but she always did know how to make a person blush, himself included.

Marian’s cheeks didn’t redden though, and that surprised him.

“Next question.”

“Don’t you want to ask me one in return? Question for a question?” The pirate mused.

“Alright.” Marian leaned conspiratorially across the table, lowering her voice an octave as she asked: “What’s your favorite drink?”

“Oh, that’s no fun.” Isabela sighed, leaning a little away from the table. “Don’t tell me your exclusively for men too?”

“Rivaini, she literally _just_ got here, put your sexual desires on hold for a while. I need to ask her the _big_ questions.” Garrett hoped the pen and paper in front of the dwarf wasn’t for taking notes.

“Oh, Spoil-sport.” Isabela huffed, waving a hand dismissively in the air. “Continue then.”

“You never answered my question.” Marian pointed out before anyone interrupted.

“Oh, my favorite drink? Without a question it’s The Hanged Man’s special!”

“That tastes, literally, like rat droppings.” Anders called, making a sound of disgust beside him. Anders had stopped rubbing circles into his back, but his hand was still warm on Garrett’s shoulder.

“But it has _character_.” 

“Oo, I have a question!” Merrill was sitting beside his sister, watching her in sort of awe. “What was Garrett like when he was a baby? Did he have a beard then too?”

Marian snorted, “This is the first I’ve seen him with facial hair, actually.” She looked at him then, and her face became a little more relaxed. “It makes him look a lot more like Dad, that’s for sure.”

“Dad’s dead.” Garrett mumbled, suddenly realizing all the things she probably didn’t know. He looked away then, a little worried how she’d react to _that_ news, she had always been close to their father. He had so much to tell her, she had so much to tell _him_ , and he was sure that wouldn’t be the easiest conversation to have. Perhaps just blurting out that fact out wasn’t the wisest decision on his part.

The room quieted then, and after a moment of stillness, she gave a reassuring smile and released his hand. “I know, Gare.”

He looked up in surprise, mouth agape momentarily. How could she know? “You-”

“It’s simple enough to gather information.” She explained shortly, turning towards Varric. “You said you had questions?”

“Ah…” The dwarf glanced at Garrett, but when he only shook his head, Varric continued. “Right, so… Hawke thought you were dead? What happened there?”

“Templars.” 

Anders flinched beside him, and Garrett let his hand fall to the man’s knee reassuringly as he swept his eyes to look at his lover. This was the first he was hearing about it too.

“I’m, uh… gonna need more information than that.”

“Planning to spin tales about me, Story-teller?” Marian leaned over the table and smirked. 

“Just the good ones, and please, Varric.” 

She sighed, glancing at Garrett out of the corner of her eye before looking back at the dwarf. “Right, well-”

“Drinks!” Anders called out, interrupting the templar talk as the serving girl came in with a round of alcohol. She set it down and Varric tipped her before she disappeared back down the stairwell a moment later.

“Where were we…?” Varric prompted, rolling a hand in encouragement for her to continue.

“Templar ambush. They found me, took me, and I was gone.”

“Are you a mage?” Anders asked, voice low and tinged with curiosity. 

“Um, not so much anymore?”

Everyone blinked, Fenris groaned behind him where he stood, and Garrett’s brows furrowed with sudden confusion. 

“Marian?” Garrett’s hand tightened around Ander’s knee, nervous and unsure.

“It’s… complicated, okay? Let’s just continue with the questioning.”

“Marian!”

“What, Gare?” She looked at him in exasperation.

“What do you mean it’s complicated? Did the templars do something, or-”

“I… no. I just don’t use it much.” She shrugged.

“So we have yet _another_ mage in our midst?” Fenris spat, and Garrett glanced back to see a sneer on the man’s face. 

“Fenris! Please, she is my sister, don’t do this.” Garrett looked at him pleadingly, hoping beyond hope that the man would just let the subject drop. 

The elf glared then drank from his tankard before gesturing for the group to continue. Garrett heaved a sigh of relief. Marian looked utterly unphased by the man’s reaction. 

“So what happened _after_ the Templars, since you don’t seem to want to go into details.” Varric questioned, leaning heavily on the table. 

“They had my blood, so I couldn’t come back, even after I shook them off over and over again.”

“You escaped from the Templars?” Anders asked, impressed.

“Many times.”

“So you were on the run?” Isabela added.

“For a while… yes.” Marian was being very vague, and frankly, it had Garrett worried. She had always been such a loud mouth when they were kids, why was she suddenly not?

“I think you at least owe me an explanation.” Garrett mumbled, looking over his sister sadly. Was she not going to explain herself at all? She was gone, for ten years! He deserved some sort of explanation, an apology… something!

Her jaw tightened, and after a silent moment she spoke. “Short story then, yes? Templars got me, took my blood, I ran, they followed so I couldn’t come back to the family. I trained myself, joined The Ring, left that, finally got rid of my phylactery, then I searched for you and found you.” She didn’t look particularly pleased with having shared even that much of her story. “Dad was always really good at hiding your trail, and I wasn’t even sure you were _alive_ until I heard the Story-teller’s version of you. Thanks for that, by the way.” She smiled gratefully at Varric, “I owe you.”

“What’s-”

“You were part of The Ring? The _actual_ Ring?” Anders was leaned over the table in amazement, and Marian backed up a little in her chair and gave him a small smile.

“Yes.”

“No one just _leaves_ The Ring! How did you get out?”

“Hello? What is ‘The Ring’?” Isabela asked.

Anders looked at the pirate excitedly, “It’s a mage group! They dispense justice when it’s needed, then disappear. It’s practically impossible to track down, and even harder to join once you find it. It’s a little legendary, though not a lot is known besides that no one just leaves.” He looked at Marian again, “How did you get into _that_?!”

She chuckled, taking a sip of her ale before explaining. “I was invited.”

“They _invited_ you?” 

“Yes, now someone else ask a question. He’s had two and that’s just not fair.”

“What sort of mage are you?” Fenris questioned, not even bothering to hide the snap of his tone. 

“A very sexy one.” 

“Answer the question!”

“Fenris-” Garrett tried to interrupt, but Marian just shook her head and held up a hand to stop him. 

“It’s a fair question.” She stated, looking at Fenris curiously. He quieted down and watched the elf with a sad frown as his sister put a hand to her chin in thought.

“I am a powerful one-”

“Is that a threat?” Fenris hissed. Garrett spun to watch his sister’s reaction carefully, hoping above all else she was not going to respond aggressively. He had little hope, to be perfectly honest, and he sat tensely in his chair just waiting for the snap. 

“No.” Her hands came up in a gesture of surrender, and she nodded slightly to the elf in respect. Calm, serene, not even slightly phased. “Just a statement. I am powerful, but I do not use my magic very often, if that is at all a comfort.”

“Why would such a fact comfort me? You are a mage-”

“Who does not use her magic unless she very much has to. I think you’re more dangerous then I am, honestly.” She smirked then, tilting her head to the side, “Besides, I’m not gonna risk an incident in _Templar-Town_ , do I look like I have a death-wish?”

Fenris scoffed, disbelievingly, and turned away to stare broodily at the wall beside him. Varric was the first to break the silence.

“How long have you been in the city?”

Marian swallowed, “Um…”

“Marian?” Garrett felt his stomach drop. She was hesitating, why was she hesitating?

“... twelve days?”

“You’ve been in the city twelve days and you are just _now_ meeting me? Marian!”

“Oh pish-posh, it wasn’t like I did it without reason! I had… things to take care of.”

“Things?” Varric asked, raising a brow. “You wouldn’t happen to be the reason the streets are clear recently, would you?”

“Yeah, that’s the surprise, actually...”

“What’s the surprise…?” Anders asked in Garrett’s stead, beginning to once again rub circles into the man’s back. Garrett was still in shock about how long she’d been in the city.

“I kicked out most of the gangs by the docks, so that should be helpful for most everyone.”

“You… kicked out the gangs?” Garrett blinked, completely surprised. What did she mean, kicked out?

“Well, it wasn’t too hard honestly.” She shrugged, then tilted her mug back to finish her ale. She placed the tankard carefully back on the table and gave a long sigh. “This stuff is awful, is there any wine?”

“Did you shank them?” Merrill asked, almost disturbingly excited as she thrust her hand out in a mime of stabbing. “What did you do? You didn’t kill them all, did you? That would be very impressive if you did.”

Marian laughed a little, “I didn’t kill them all, just a… select few. Their groups will come back eventually, once they establish a replacement leader, but for now the streets are cleared.”

“I was wondering why the alleys were so empty tonight…” Garrett looked up as Aveline made her way into the room, a tired look on her face. “I appreciate it, but please, don’t ever do it again.” Varric slide a drink her way, and she took it gratefully in her hands and sighed. “So…” she mused, looking over Marian thoughtfully, “I can see the resemblance, a little, I think… _Maker_ , it’s been a strange day.”

“Well this is just a normal Wednesday for me.” Marian joked, smiling over to the guardwoman.

“Twelve days…” Garrett was mumbling, looking down at his own drink in disbelief. She had been here all that while? 

“What’s he mumbling about?” Aveline questioned.

“His sister’s been in town for twelve days.” Anders answered.

“Why _didn’t_ you approach sooner?” Aveline asked, brows raised in question. 

“I like to make an entrance!” Marian defended, a hand to her heart in an exaggerated way. “Though honestly, Carmen screwed me on that one.” She sighed wistfully, “She just had to show you my hidey-hole…”

Fenris did a sort of snort/cough thing into his drink then asked, “ _Hidey-hole?_ It was a dark alley!”

Marian grinned ear to ear, “Yes, my hidey-hole! I procured it from some… reluctant gang members.” She chuckled, “Cute laugh by the way… snort? Cough? I don’t know what it was, but it was very sexy.”

Garrett tensed in his chair. What was she doing? Images of an outraged Fenris pulling out his sister’s heart flashed through his head as he glanced back at the elf. He only saw Fenris roll his eyes and continue drinking from his tankard, but nothing distinctly threatening. He didn’t seem angry, just tired perhaps, a little tense if anything. That could have gone so much worse.

Garrett sighed, “I can’t believe you didn’t meet with me sooner, Marian. That’s not fair.”

“Hmm.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “Contemplate your questions while I get an actual drink.” She stood from the chair and Garrett almost followed her out of the room. Anders held him back though, a firm hand on his shoulder. Everyone stayed quiet until she was down the stairs.

“Do you trust her, Hawke?” Varric looked at him warily. “Don’t get me wrong, she’s great, but you know her best.”

“I… I don’t know about that anymore.” Garrett mumbled, looking towards the entryway. He’d finally stopped crying at some point during the conversation, thankfully, and he wiped his eyes tiredly. “She’s really similar in some ways, but others…”

“Like what?” Isabela prompted.

“I… don’t know. She used to be so… so different.” He said lamely, trying to find the proper words. Rowdy? No, that wasn't it. Energetic? No… he wasn’t sure what had changed. 

“I think she’s very nice!” Merrill stated.

“And a mage.” Fenris added. “Dangerous.”

“You didn’t seem too angry when she complimented you.” Anders mumbled, taking a drink from Garrett’s mug. The man hadn’t even touched his ale at all, he didn’t have the taste for it right now.

“If he got mad every time someone complimented him, Isabela wouldn’t have a heart, to be fair.” Varric gestured to Isabela who nodded along.

“It’s true. Fenris is a tense, tolerant, _sexy_ -”

“That’s enough of that.” Aveline interrupted, throwing Anders' empty mug in her direction. She caught it easily and turned it over in her hands then continued-

“Really, though. She seems honest enough. I say we keep her.”

“More honest than some of us, at least.” Varric chuckled. 

“Oh, but where would she stay?” Merrill pondered, “I suppose I could-”

“She’ll stay with us.” Garrett didn’t allow any room for argument. “Mother is going to be… I don’t know. But she’ll stay with us.”

No one refuted the point, and Marian walked back into the room a few seconds later. She was carrying a bottle of wine in one hand and her other one was... bloody. “Okay, so questions?” She sat unceremoniously and looked around the group.

“... what happened to your hand?” 

She laughed heartily, then took a sip of wine straight from the bottle. “Would you believe I tripped?”

“No.” Garrett said shortly.

“Oh well, worth a try.” She took another sip, “Someone touched my ass, and I _may_ have punched his face, I think he owed Corff money, because the next thing I knew, I got a free bottle of wine!” She grinned, holding the bottle up in celebration, “It was a party all around!”

Well… it was good to see _some_ things about her didn’t change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made up The Ring, it doesn't exist. 
> 
> I was thinking "What if there was a fight-club in Thedas made exclusively of mages?" because Marian would totally join something like that, and then this idea sprang up and it's all very complicated now. I will probably write a side story with more in depth info about the group later, but you'll read a little more in future chapters!! Possibly even a flashback??? WHO KNOWS???


	6. A Brothel is the Perfect Place!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian has arrived in the city, and before she meets Garrett, she wants to gather a little more information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow 3 quick updates? Amaze, fantastic.
> 
> My juice will run out eventually, but until then!! TAKE ANOTHER ONE.
> 
> I love you all so much. so so much. Thank you for the comments and kudos!! I'm so eXCITED!!

When Kirkwall had finally come into view, Marian felt like she had been hit by an army of angry bears. Just the sight of the looming twins (which she lovingly named “Oppression” and “Depression”) made her heart drop and her blood go cold. Why they would keep statues that looked so _ugly_ in the city line was beyond her comprehension. It dissuaded any desire for vacations in the city, that was for sure. Not that that particular venture needed much assistance anyway.

The very idea of having to step foot in a place where so many templars roamed was more frightening than she’d admit. What had her family been thinking when they decided to come here? Were they mad? Did they get hit in the head before getting on a boat out of Ferelden? Boy-oh-boy, she had a lot of questions that needed to be answered.

The ship was a buzz, workers reined in the sails, and people bustled about in preparation of finally reaching land. It had been a long couple of weeks since they had left the Orlesian port, and everyone seemed eager to get their feet on solid ground. She weaved between her sweaty shipmates, glancing every so often at the bag she had left by the edge of the ship. Already having said her goodbyes, she was to leave as soon as they docked. 

Well, more accurately, she was being kicked off.

It had been an accident, having the captain find out who and what _she_ was. Of course, he hadn’t taken it well at all, but he was at least respectable enough to not spread the news around. Honestly, Marian was surprised the doctor who had found out had also kept quiet. The man wasn't usually one to keep secrets, she was thankful he did this time.

_You just had to be the hero, didn't you?_ She sighed, joining the crew in pulling a length of rope against the mast. It was rough, and Marian knew her hands would be raw when she finished here.

The time went by rather fast, and it seemed only moments before they reached the city. Her orders had been clear, _”As soon as we dock, get off my ship and never some back.”_ The Captain didn’t like lies, apparently. She personally thought he was being a little melodramatic, but not unfair. Nothing in this world was particularly fair anyway, she supposed.

The men on the ship had wished her luck, and as soon as she was able, she leapt from the boat and sped away, hood up and keeping out of eyeshot of the ship’s passengers. It sucked she’d lost a contact, but she’d had worse luck before. A lot worse, in fact. She was actually rather lucky that her correspondence was the only thing she lost for lying to the Captain like that. 

Marian ducked into the crowds as soon as she was able. She needed to gather some information before any moves were made. She also needed a nap, and some food, and possibly another nap after that. Damn,she was going to be _busy_.

~~~

It was three days before she saw him. He wasn’t particularly hard to spot, honestly, carrying loads of supplies (medicine and food, she guessed, according to her information) through the passageways. Children clung to his heels as he made his way towards the clinic tucked away in the back corner of Darktown.

He was… different than she’d imagined. Firstly his face was covered in hair, and that itself made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. It was as if her father had handed his beard to his son like an heirloom, it was even the same _style_. But his face, that was all their mother’s. Her lips, her dimples, her eye shape, the little crease between his brows, only his nose and eye color was the exception. 

Marian could have sat there and studied his face for hours if she wanted to. It was a little heavier than it had been when she left. He’d bulked up, that’s for sure. His arms were large, his shoulders broader than she remembered. His smile was the same though, for all he had gone through, his smile was _still_ the same. It made her want to run away and run towards him simultaneously. It was hard to ignore both urges.

She _could_ have seen him sooner, he was easy enough to track down, but she had been... stalling.

Not that she would ever admit it.

It was just overwhelming to see someone from before everything happened. Before she’d lived her life looking over her shoulder, before she had changed. She wondered how much he had changed, personality wise, since she’s been gone. She wondered if he would even recognize her if he saw her. She wondered if she would _really_ recognize him in the end.

He walked out of view then, entering the free clinic run by a Grey Warden apostate, one she had heard quite a bit about despite him trying to remain under the radar. No one spoke ill words of the man who ran it, and they all did their best to dissuade the Templars away. At least the people seemed thankful for his help. That gave Marian more hope that if she _did_ use her magic in an emergency, she may not be immediately sent to the circle. Still, it wasn’t much of a hope at all. 

She idly watched the clinic doors for a while before deciding to move on with her business. She had to meet someone, _ugh_ , she wasn’t really looking forward to it. 

She pulled her hood a little lower on her head and made her way for Hightown.

~~~

“You’re here earlier than I thought you’d be, Dragon.”

“Never call me that again, please. At least not in polite company.” Marian sighed, spinning in her stool to look at the man, a pair of blue eyes hidden under a rather absurd blue hat. His stubbled beard and brown hair were greying with age, she noticed. But of course his clothes were as _outlandish_ as ever. “You’re certainly sparkling today, Muse.”

“Being memorable is half the fun, but you already knew that, didn’t you?” He sat in the free stool to her left and ordered an ale with a flick of his wrist. “The Blooming Rose? Certainly a scandalous place to meet, mon cher.”

“Stop being _Orlesian_.” She batted his arm and reached for his drink before he snatched it away from her grasp and glared in her direction. She shrugged, lifting a hand to order a drink herself.

“It’s my _nature_ , mi amour.”

“Antivan.”

“Amatus?”

“Tevinter. Do _you_ even know where you are from, anymore?” She chuckled, nodding to the barkeep with wild red hair as she poured a wine. The woman was pouting, busy it seemed, if the amount of people crowded around the bar was enough of a tell.

“I’m alive, who needs more information than that?” The man held a hand up to stop her from responding, “Nevermind, obviously _you_ do. Always such a needy one, you were.”

“Are.”

“And so _rude_.” He smiled wide and drank away some ale from his tankard before setting it back down in front of him. “So? Why am I here, Dear?”

She tipped the barkeep and took a sip of the wine in her cup. It tasted more bitter than she would like, but honestly, she wasn’t going to be picky in a _brothel_. That _would_ be rude.

“I need information on a family that lives here.” She mumbled, glancing at him from the side of her eyes. He was business now, and she really did have to admire how quickly he could flip the switch.

“A family, or _the_ family?” He questioned, leaning a little closer as the conversation turned to low voices and hushed tones. 

She tensed in her chair, looking at him with a frown. “The family?” She asked. 

“My dear, did you think an information dealer wouldn’t know _that_ much about you?”

She hissed, drinking the rest of her wine in one go. This was certainly not where she had wanted this conversation to go. “Can I just get the information?”

“Look, sweetheart-”

“ _Don’t_ call me that.” 

“Okay, okay. _Dragon_ , listen, I’m doing this as a favor for you. I’m sure you aren't very fond of me right now, but I do think we are friends,” She wasn’t so sure about that. “So as your friend, may I offer advice?”

She didn’t respond, and he apparently took that as a yes.

“Sometimes the dead should stay that way.”

She suppressed a shudder that ran through her spine, clenching her hands around the empty cup in front of her. Stay dead? Almost ten years she had been staying away to protect them, all the while using the few resources she could find to _search_ for them. She couldn’t just… stay _dead_! 

“The Amell family,” She ground out through clenched teeth. “Tell me about the Hawke and Amell family.”

She didn’t look at him, but she could feel his eyes on her. He remained quiet for a while, but eventually sighed. “They are one in the same now.” He began, spinning the tankard of ale in his hands. “The young man, Garrett, inherited the Amell state after coming across some riches in the Deep Roads. The expedition was started by the Tethras brothers, a dwarven family, but many say Hawke was the one to end it.” 

He touched her elbow to grab her attention, and she glanced his way and pulled her arm away from him. “What?”

“Are you… sure you want _me_ telling you this?” He asked seriously.

Marian blinked, then slowly nodded her head in answer. Out of the methods she could gain this information, this was the best. Be prepared, and have a reliable source. 

His lips thinned, but he nodded and continued. “The Hawkes came from Ferelden during the blight. Not all of them made it...”

She sucked in an inaudible breath but nodded for him to continue. She had to hear it from him, she wouldn’t make her family recount such tales to her, her showing up would be painful enough.

“The father died a while before, but the young girl died in the escape from Ferelden.” He continued, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She flinched, but didn’t move to shake him off. “The mother and brothers made it though, and they are doing as well for themselves as they could be. Better, probably.”

“How are they?” She asked quietly. Her father was dead? Her sister as well? When she’d heard no mention of them in the stories she had thought… she had thought they were staying hidden. Apparently, that was not the case.

“They seem well, all things considered. Leandra is fitting well into the upper class again.”

Marian scoffed, “Of course she would. And the boys?”

“Garrett is the new favorite among the city. ‘Errand-Boy’, some call him. He’s certainly keeping busy with politics too. The little one became a... Templar.” He hissed the word out, as if it caused him physical pain. “No one is sure why. His brother is… less than happy about it. The Knight-Commander has actually received quite a few letters from him about the matter, though what the letters said, I cannot be certain.”

“Of course he would.” She mumbled, no anger in her voice despite the revelation. She understood Carver quite well, she knew he had his reasons, and she would certainly discuss them once she got the nerve to meet him.

“You don’t sound surprised.”

“I couldn’t be. Carver is very predictable, even now.” She smiled a little at the thought. “Any other information I can squeeze out of you?” 

His lips turned down, but he did not question her lack of reaction to the news. “Well, I can tell you about Gamlen, and about Garrett’s companions. Garrett’s found a lover.”

She grinned, “I heard about him. He could do worse, I suppose.”

He cried out in disgust, “He has every citizen in his pocket, and he chooses a man like that? It is an outrage!”

“Garrett’s too young for you, Muse.” She smirked, then laughed at his pointed glare. 

“How old do you think I am, exactly?”

“Not answering that! Now, tell me more about his friends, and Uncle Gamy. _Maker_ , It’s been ages since I’ve even _thought_ about him.”

“How old do you think I am though?! The grey is from _stress_ , I’m not old!”

“Will you tell me, even if you don’t like my answer?”

“I will pout, but yes! Now tell me!” 

“I thought you were forty-seven.”

“ _Forty-seven!_ ” He cried out, laying his head on the bar in despair. “I am _thirty-four_ , I am not _forty-seven!_ ”

She pat his back in sympathy, though she didn’t really understand the big deal. Lots of people thought she was older than she was, and she didn’t mind. 

“The others?” She asked after a minute or two of silence. 

He sighed, lifting his head from the crook of his elbow. “Gamlen is a drunkard fool. Spends his money on madness and wins nothing in return. He bet away the estate before the Hawkes had even came to Ferelden. Apparently, it wasn’t even his to give away.”

“Oh?” She didn't know much about her uncle, but she had always assumed he was more a snob then anything.

“Yes. It was actually supposed to be Leandra’s, even after being _disowned_.” He tsked and shook his head. “I suppose the parents had the foresight to know what he would eventually do with it. It’s a shame.”

“And Garrett’s friends?”

“There’s quite a few of them. What do you already know?”

“Varric is the story-teller, there’s two elves, a pirate, the Grey Warden, and a prince? Oh, and the captain of the guard!”

“Well, one of the elves is from the Dalish clan on Mount Sundermount. She was apparently a first and everything, but she left it behind to join Garrett’s company. I’m not clear on the details…” He finally finished his ale and placed the empty tankard away from him. “The other elf, with the white tattoos? I know more about him than I’d care to tell you.”

Marian frowned, “And what you can tell?”

“He’s from Tevinter, running from an old master of his, only he’s no longer running. Garrett and his company are backing the elf up, it seems. There haven't been many run-ins with slavers though, surprisingly.”

“He’s a long ways away from Tevinter. I imagine his master has given up on finding _one_ elf?” She already knew the answer to that inquiry, but she let it hang in the air.

“Sadly, no. The master was very invested with this one. His tattoos are lyrium.”

She hissed, shaking her head in disgust. “Always a new torture.”

“Truly.” He nodded. “The pirate, now she’s _very_ interesting.” He smiled knowingly. 

“Oh? Do tell.”

“She’s from Rivain, it’s plain to see.” Marian nodded in agreement. She’d seen peaks of the woman haggling in the market place. She certainly didn't make it a hard guess of her origins. “She ship-wrecked here, about the same time the Qunari did…”

“A connection?” She asked, suddenly curious. She could only imagine what had happened to anger the Qunari. She’d seen them at the Docks, covered in body-paints and they seemed rather disgusted with the streets. Why would they want to stay if they hated it enough to glare at every stone the city was built on? There was obviously something they needed, or wanted.

“Oh, I’m not saying _that_ , only that it’s strange every time Garrett’s little party goes to enter the Qunari compound, she mysteriously disappears.”

“He enters the compound?”

“Oh, a few times, yes. Some madness happened a while ago where this merchant had tried to make a deal with the large men, but it was all a huge mess.”

Marian hummed, then waved for him to continue. 

“Right, anyway, Varric is actually a very interesting man as well. We are well acquainted.”

“Similar work?”

“Yes, but on top of that, he’s quite the story-teller. A _very_ good business man.”

“Admirable.”

“Very much so. I-” He cut off suddenly, and Marian watched his face fall drastically as he looked over her shoulder. “Good _Maker_ , of course they’d show up now.” 

She glanced over her shoulder casually, and saw a pair walk in to the establishment. They were dressed extravagantly, rich, for sure. She turned back to him and his eyes were back on her face. 

“Okay, quickly. The guardswoman escaped with them from Ferelden, she’s climbed the ranks quickly and she’s a tough cookie. The prince? He joined the group after Garrett agreed to kill his family’s murderers. It’s a long story, and I don't have time, I’m afraid.” He glanced cautiously over her shoulder again before hugging her tightly and spinning just so his face was out of the stranger’s view. She knew the drill, and enthusiastically hugged back.

“It’s fine. Stay safe, Muse.” She chuckled into his ear, “Don’t be too reckless.” She went to release him, but he pulled her in closer.

“One last thing.” He mumbled quietly, “There’s some gangs prowling. I’ve heard a… worrisome rumor.”

She tensed slightly, but nodded into his shoulder. This was obviously important if he was risking himself so much.

“They are targeting the Hawkes, specifically the young one, Carver.” She nodded again in understanding, and he continued. “I suspect it’s one near the Docks that contains a lot of mages. Word is, Carver is targeting them in the _best_ way. If I know you well enough, you can easily handle them.”

She nodded again, and he finally released her, giving a wink as he spun around and quickly walked towards the backroom of the brothel. She suspected there was a window, or a backdoor to lead away. The main entrance was too risky with the men sitting at the first table.

Well, she knew what she had to do now at least. 

Time to go gang-hunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just keep making up more OCs every Marian chapter omfg. 
> 
> Muse will def show up later, he's just too useful to drop for a one-time thing. Also I kinda liked him. Man, I have a problem.


	7. Expectations, Meet Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders doesn't understand Marian at all, but neither does her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a quite the time writing from Anders POV, tbh. I would have had this chapter done ages ago, but I was having a rough time with him.  
> I hope it's not ooc, but this is about as good as I could do. I never really connected to Anders the way I connected to some of the rest of the crew.
> 
> Also, I am currently residing in my cousin's house (out of state) until the second week of March. It's kind of crazy here, but I wanted to get this chapter out at least. You guys have been waiting long enough!
> 
> Again, thanks for comments and kudos! I just recently got some and while I'm unsure how you found me, I'm happy you did! I hope you enjoy the story! MWAH <3

She was… strange. Ander’s couldn’t quite put his finger on _why_ he thought that, but he did think it, all the same. Perhaps it was how dissimilar she was to her brother, perhaps it was how she spoke, or how she looked over her shoulder too often and yet seemed all too calm, even when a templar walked past.

Perhaps it was the fact she could drink liquor like a demon and still act like she hadn't even taken a sip.

Yes… perhaps that was it.

“You’re really not very similar…”

“Oh? We aren’t?” 

Anders was leaned against Garrett’s shoulder, feeling slightly heavier and dizzier than he probably should. He’d had far more alcohol than necessary, perhaps trying to match Marian tankard for tankard was unwise afterall. 

“Who drinks that much so _easily_ …”

He could hear her snickering behind him, and then a little snort as she got herself quiet again.

“Comes with practice.” She had a weird voice, Anders concluded. A weird laugh, a weird voice, and a weird face too. Not that it wasn’t a _nice_ face, it just… he couldn’t figure out why it was so strange to him. 

“... lots of angles.” Yeah, that’s why it was so strange. Compared to Garrett, who was all smooth edges and round cheeks, she seemed very out of place with her chiseled jaw and angled bones. 

“Anders?” Garrett pulled him in by the shoulder, kissing his temple gently. Anders loved the little blossom of warmth that spread through his body anytime Garrett kissed him. “What are you going on about?”

Anders looked back over his shoulder towards the woman in question, a woman who wasn’t even paying attention to them. She was a little further back than she had been a moment ago, hood pulled back over her face so he could just barely make out the tip of her nose. She turned to the left and the moon seemed to highlight the scar along her neck, a deep gash that he could only assume never healed properly. 

If _he_ had been healing it, it wouldn’t have scarred like that. 

She looked at him then and offered him a little smile. They stared at each other for a moment before she spoke.

“Something I can help you with?” 

“... no.” He kinda had questions about, well, _everything_ , but he didn’t think he could process in his current condition. So he turned back to the path ahead of them and ignored the dizzy feeling he got looking at the cobbled stones.

The ‘Amell Estate’ came into view, his _home_. It’d only been a few weeks since he began living here with Garrett and his mother, but it was long enough to make it the coziest place he’s lived in. Far better then any Circle or Grey Warden hold he’d ever had the pleasure of calling “home”, even with Leandra not being very fond of him. She’d come around eventually… maybe.

“Your mother is going to be happy.” 

Garrett spoke up then, a little skip in his step as he made his way closer to home “Definitely! I can’t even imagine how she’ll react once she sees you!” He looked at his sister, and she gave a weak smile in return.

“Neither can I, honestly.”

“You think she’ll recognize you?” Garret asked, looking at her seriously, “I mean, you look a whole lot like Dad, but still… should I introduce you, or-”

“If she doesn’t recognize me right off, she’ll figure it out quick.” Marian mumbled, pulling her hood back away from her face as she hesitated to continue forward. The estate was only a few yards away, but Garrett stopped walking to look at his sister, and since Anders was currently tucked under his arm, he didn’t have much of a choice but to stop as well.

“...Marian?”

“Yeah?”

“...We should go inside.”

“Yeah, I… guess we should.” She didn’t move though, just looked at the door with a little furrow in her brow. Garrett made to step towards her, but stopped when they all heard the door creak open and someone clap their hands together.

“Enchantment!” Sandal excitedly called. What was he still doing up? Bodahn had usually sent him to bed by now.  


“Messere! I’m _so_ sorry! Sandal, my boy, what’s gotten into you?” Bodahn appeared behind the lad, gently guiding him inside again. “Please, come in, shall I prepare a room for your guest?”

“That would be wonderful, Bodahn.” Garrett grinned, “Where is Mother?”

“She has already retired for the night. Shall I wake her?”

Marian perked up and began speaking, “There’s no need-”

“That would be great, thank you.” Garrett finished.

“Enchantment?”

“Yes, yes, my boy. You’re supposed to be in bed.” The dwarf sighed, leading his son through the hall and towards their room. The boy seemed oddly defiant as he slowly trudged back inside, glancing over his shoulder.

Anders tumbled through the door after them and spared a glance over his shoulder. Hawke and his sister made their way through the door, Marian’s feet seeming to almost drag behind her. She certainly didn’t seem enthusiastic about meeting her mother. He wondered why?

As they finally made their way into the house, they heard a great clamoring from Leandra’s bedroom. Against the door there was loud whining and scratching that made Anders slightly uncomfortable. The dog was very well behaved, something Anders had been immensely grateful for when he had entered the house, but now he seemed to be getting antsy behind the door, and Anders had half a mind to hide in the bedroom until the noises stopped. He really was not fond of dogs.

Marian seemed to pause by the fireplace, a smile lighting up her face when she heard the dog howl against the door. She quickly reached down to remove her shoes, then pulled of her cloak without a second thought. Anders could now see she was rather built for a woman even at her height, and he had no doubt that she could lift a Qunari off the ground if she really wanted to. It was a little intimidating...

“Where is he?” Marian asked, expressing pure excitement. 

There was a mumbling behind Leandra’s door before it was opened, and then the hound shot out and leaped down the stairs, slamming hard into Marian’s frame. She crouched down and hugged the dog, holding them steady as she laughed loudly, the dog whining and licking her face enthusiastically. 

“Sticker!” The dog howled again as she buried her face into the beast’s neck. Anders couldn’t imagine it smelling very good, or being a very pleasant feeling in general, but she looked as if she could never be happier, and he’d never seen the dog this happy in all his time with Hawke. 

He glanced towards Garrett smiling behind her in the doorway, tears once again sliding down his cheeks. It seemed the night was not quite over yet. 

“What has gotten into that dog?” Leandra’s voice carried down the stairs, “It hasn’t acted like that since--” She gasped, and Anders turned to find her standing frozen on the stairs, one hand grasping at the the railing while the other reached for her open mouth. 

Marian didn’t let go of the dog, in fact, her grip tightened around him, eyes just peaking out from behind his form. Neither woman moved, as if afraid to be the first. Anders glanced between the two of them, waiting, for what, he wasn’t sure.

“...Marian?” Leandra questioned, finally taking a step forward. 

Marian didn’t make a sound, only nodded slightly into the wiggly dog she held onto. 

Leandra took another step, and then another, and another, until she finally stood in front of Marian. She looked unsure, wary, as if waiting for a trick. “Are you real?”

Marian's laugh was muffled by dog fur, but she finally spoke: “No, I don’t think so.”

“Marian!” Garrett’s scolding was only slightly less effective when his voice broke. 

“Perhaps this is all a dream.” Marian continued. “Do you dream of me often, Mother?”

“Marian… I haven’t said your name in a long time.” Leandra mumbled, 

“I can’t imagine you had much need for a dead girl’s name.”

“But you weren’t dead, were you?” Leandra was starting to cry, and Anders had the sudden feeling he should not be here for this. Not that he would actually leave, his feet felt like lead and his curiosity was getting the better of him. No, he wanted to see what would happen.

“No, I don’t think so.” Marian answered again, her voice even. He couldn’t tell what she was making of all this. 

“Where… How could you…” Leandra wiped her tears on the sleeve of her nightgown and took a deep breath. “How could you let us think you were dead? _Ten years_ , you let us think you were dead for _ten years_!”

“Mother-” Garrett began, only to be cut off by a wave of Leandra’s hand. 

“No! I want an answer! _Why_? Is it because you wanted to spite me?” This was not exactly the happy family reunion Anders had imagined on their way over here.

“I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.” Marian answered, her voice not giving a hint of any emotion. It didn’t help that her face was still mostly covered by the dog so he couldn’t see much of her expression either.

“You could have…” Tears streamed down Leandra’s face as she began sobbing, unable to finish whatever she was about to say. Her hands went up to cover her face, and her shoulders began to shake helplessly as she stood in the foyer

Marian finally stood up, the dog whining and scratching pitifully at her feet. She seemed to hesitate before taking a step forward and placing a hand carefully atop her mother’s head. “I really couldn’t.” She mumbled.

Leandra looked up then, face wet with tears, and shook her head free of Marian’s touch. “You _should_ have.”

“I couldn’t.” Marian said simply, letting her hand drop.

Leandra choked out a sob and reached to cradle Marian’s face in her hands. They stood awkwardly as Marian crouched so her mother could reach, her back arching due to her height. Anders couldn’t imagine it being comfortable.

Everyone remained quiet (save for the still whimpering hound) as Leandra brushed a hand over Marian’s face. She seemed to be looking for something, Anders wasn’t quite sure what for, but he didn’t dare interrupt the strange silence.

After a few seconds though, Marian smirked, “Just like Dad, huh? I mean, I have better hair, but--”

“Hush.” Leandra ordered, pulling her daughter into a tight hug. Marian didn’t reciprocate it immediately, but when she finally let brought her arms up to awkwardly pat her mother’s back, Anders breathed a sigh of relief. He forced himself to leave the room then, allowing them a moment of privacy while he attempted to sober up some more in the kitchen.

Bodahn was in there, preparing tea. When did he sneak from Sandal’s room to the kitchen? Anders wasn’t sure. He strode towards the dwarf, his ‘Grey Warden Stamina’ already helping to rid his body of the alcohol. Sometimes he was really glad he agreed to be a Grey Warden.

“Finally get Sandal to bed, Bodahn?”  


“Oh, Messere Anders! Yes, I did. I think the boy was just a bit excited with the new guest. I was just making everyone some tea, a special brew for you as well.”

Anders chuckled, “A pre-hangover cure?”

“Something like that.” Bodahn smiled, gesturing to a separate tea cup beside him. 

Anders reached over and grabbed the drink gratefully, downing it quickly. It _was_ a rather disgusting brew, but it certainly did the trick to make him sober. He coughed, placing the cup back on the counter. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure, Messere. It’s been quite the night… I imagine Messere Garrett reacted better to the news?” Bodahn questioned, setting tea cups carefully on the tray. Anders nodded, more to himself than anything, then watched as Bodahn smiled and picked up the tray to make his way out to the foyer. 

Anders wandered out behind him, curious as to what the scene would be now. He wasn’t surprised when he saw Garrett pulling both his mother and his sister in for a hug, poor Marian once again crouching to allow his arms to circle over her shoulders. Both the woman seemed hesitant, but they let Hawke continue his embrace without comment. 

_This_ was closer to what he had been anticipating. But still far enough that he had to wonder. 

What had happened between Marian and her mother?


	8. Well, Aren't You Picky!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian gets a cruddy new blade and who knows what it does??? You do, after reading this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am slow, but I love you all for kudos & comments!!!! !!! You are all so kind <3
> 
> I am hoping to get the next update up sooner, because I actually have some of it written already. Wish me luck of continued motivation!

“Wait, so you’ve been sleeping in the garden the last three nights?”

“Is that so strange?” Marian questioned, smirking despite herself. It was rather odd, she’d admit that, but she was more comfortable out there than she could ever be inside that house.

“It’s been pouring rain, and _cold_!” Varric argued.

Marian laughed, leading Varric, Isabela, and Sticker further into the market. “Which is _why_ I sleep under the tree.” She pat the dog affectionately on the head, “Besides, Sticker is a nice enough heating pad.”

“They have a room!” Varric protested, surprisingly outraged. Apparently he wasn't much of an outdoorsy guy. “What is _wrong_ with you?” Marian couldn’t quite deny that something was wrong with her, so she just ignored that particular comment altogether.

“Why _aren’t_ you sleeping in the house?” Isabela asked, bumping against the side of Marian’s body playfully. She only reached to about Marian’s shoulder, but the gesture wasn’t lost.

“Oh you know…” Marian smirked, bumping her back, “Good ol’ love of the outdoors!”

Isabela snorted, “ _Kinky_.”

Thankfully she let the subject drop once they reached the stall they had all been aiming for. A dozen or so daggers made of multiple metals gleamed brightly on the table, each as well made as the last. One good thing about Kirkwall? Expertly made weapons always found themselves here at some point. Marian guessed it had to do with how many thieves lived here, and how often people traveled through. She certainly didn’t care how _they_ got them, as long as _she_ got them in the end.

The shop hand looked at them curiously with a single eye, then nodded to Varric. ”Master Tethras. I have a deal for you! A discount, if you will… and your associates, of course.” 

Varric nodded, glancing over the various knives as Isabela eyed a great jeweled blade to her right. Marian was looking for something specific, a rare knife that had been reportedly stolen a day’s ride North and most recently spotted here in Lowtown’s Bazaar.

If only she’d had the opportunity to steal it first.

She didn’t see it on the shelves though, and there didn’t seem to be any hidden stock. Marian could have sworn her contact said this particular stall, the stall run by the stout elf with the broken nose and an eyepatch. There was no way she was getting that part wrong.

“Where can I find... better blades?”

“Exu--excuse me?” 

“You know, like… decent blades or somethin’. None of these look usable to me, just pretty things for the impractical.” Marian tapped lightly on the table, casually looking over the selections. Varric was giving her a look that told her he knew exactly what she was up to (he didn’t), and Isabela just looked plain amused. 

And the shop owner… the shop owner looked positively indignant, lips pursed and eye a blaze. “I have the absolute best blades in Kirkwall! Nay, in all of the Free Marches!” He spat

“I don’t know… that stall in Hightown seems like better quality to me…” Marian mentioned, holding back a smile as the man threw his hands in the air.

“That no-good son-of-a-wyvern makes blades out of the cheapest materials and sells them for four times the price!” He began digging through his shop, back turned to the group as he searched for something. “I’ll tell you! That man is a liar and a thief! I only sell the best blades! The best! All he sells is cheap dragon shit! Not to mention that boatload about ‘real rubies and diamonds’! Pah! That man wouldn’t know a good blade if someone cut him in half with one!.. Aha!” The man grabbed a wrapped package from one of the shelves and brought it to the table to reveal.

The dagger itself was a dark metal with an uneven crack down the middle and a hilt wrapped with worn leather. There was a dulled red jewel at the back, and a dangling attachment of feathers and a small insignia. There were dings and scratches across the entire thing that made it look well used, and broken.

It was exactly what she had been looking for. 

“That nug-humper sold me this shitty thing blade not even five months ago! These are the kind of blades he sells to his customers! Broken, dull, and cheaply made!” The shopkeeper looked positively proud as he brought one of his own blades up to compare. It really didn’t compare at all and the poor man didn’t even know what he had.

“That blade is pretty shitty.” Varric agreed. Oh man, was he in for a surprise when she got it in her hands. 

Isabela was watching her, curiously smiling as she carefully ran her fingers across one of the rubied blades. “It’s unique, that’s for sure.” She commented, nodding to blade. “Looks well loved too.”

“How much?” Marian asked, and the shopkeeper smiled wide to reveal a missing tooth as he held up _his_ dagger. 

“This one? It’s-”

“No.” Marian interrupted, pointing to the cracked one on the table. “ _That_ one. How much is it?”

He didn’t seem to understand at first, looking between her and the blade in question with the most puzzled expression. “This… broken one?” He asked, picking it up and practically waving it in her face. 

She kinda wanted to punch him for presuming it was broken just because it was cracked, but she supposed he wouldn’t know the difference between a mage blade and a simply broken one. Not many did, it seemed. 

“Yes. That one.”

The shopkeeper glanced towards Varric who also looked a little confused as he shrugged, “She’s got weird tastes?” He supplied, shooting an unusual look towards Isabela who just shook her head in response.

“That I do.” Marian conceded, nodding to the blade once more. “How much?”

The man remained silent as his jaw worked itself into knots. She was beginning to think she’d have to steal it later that night and just leave some coin on the counter when he finally responded.

“It’s not a good blade, Serah. It will not keep you safe.” He said it slowly, as if speaking to a child.

“How much?” She asked again, eager to get her hands on it.

“I…” he looked at the blade critically, as if trying to see something that was not there. It was silent for a moment longer before he looked back towards her and narrowed his uncovered eye. “I will sell it to you for the price I bought it, which is a lot more than it is really worth.” He decided. “Are you sure...?”

Marian was pretty sure it was worth more than all the knives in Kirkwall combined to those who actually knew what it was. She decided telling his that would be unwise considering her pockets were decidedly _not_ full of gold.

She nodded, pulling out one of the small coin purses from her boot and dumping it’s contents on the table. “I’ll also take that bone carved one behind you and that decorative butter knife to your right.”

He looked a little dazed as he grabbed the blades she had asked for and wrapped them in cloth to hand to her. He began counting out her change while she carefully placed the carved knife and butter knife in her satchel and held the cracked on in her other hand. She waved at him flippantly as he reached out to hand her her coin purse back  
.  
“Keep the change.” Marian mumbled. Her eyes were glued to the blade in her hand, worn and warm and _humming_ beneath her fingers. 

“Right, the rest of those sovereigns go towards this _beauty_.” Isabela stated, grabbing hold of the jeweled one she’d been eyeing up since they’d arrived. It was a rather nice dagger, green red and yellow rubies dotting the hilt nicely. It wasn’t Marian’s style, but it was certainly Isabela’s.

The man nodded and mumbled his thanks for their patronage, still a little weirded out by the entire interaction. _Was it really so strange?_ she wondered. Perhaps she had spent too much time among thieves and weirdos.

They began walking away, Varric giving Marian a confused, amused, and slightly worried look as she kept her eyes on the dagger in her hand.

“You mind telling us what that was about?” He asked, walking in step behind her. 

Finally away from the shopkeeper, she let herself laugh. “I did not think it’d be this easy to find.” 

“A cracked blade in lowtown is a pretty easy find, honestly.” Isabela teased, looking over her shoulder at the blade. “I don’t get what’s special about this one.”

Marian grinned, flipping the dagger easily in her hand and then tucking it into her belt. “Maybe some day I’ll show you.”

 

~~~

 

That day came far quicker then Marian had anticipated and actually turned out to be later that night.

After finishing their shopping spree in Lowtown, the group had gone to meet up with her brother, his little mage boyfriend, and surprisingly the Tevinter. He had then led them across the entirety of Kirkwall, until eventually, they found themselves in front of the Qunari Compound. Marian had generally kept her distance from the place, but her brother never seemed bothered by the giant horned men. She guessed it probably had to do with his kind and accepting disposition, but it was also possible he just didn't have a reason to be afraid of them like she did. (She found the fear of having your mouth sewn shut and being collared was a valid fear for anyone like her, really.)

One of the horned men was standing oddly outside the compound, and also seemed to be watching them, she did not take that as a good sign. Her brother, however, seemed mostly oblivious to the pointed stare as he smiled towards the Qunari, and of course, walked closer. Let it never be said her brother was not a curious soul...

“You are Hawke.” The stone faced giant spoke, his eyes scanning the group before returning his gaze to Garrett. He was well built, if the term did him justice, and he was painted in bright red patterns Marian assumed was traditional of Qunari warriors. “A Patrol went missing along the wounded coast. The Arishok says you have some semblance of honor, so tell me: did you kill them?” 

Marian let her hand fall to the blade tucked into her belt, she wasn’t liking where this conversation was going. The Qunari caught her movement from the corner of his eyes and looked towards her with an almost bored expression, it was kind of hard to tell with that gate in front of it.

“I seek an answer to a question, ‘What has happened to the missing karataam?’ Vengeance is not relevant to this task.” His words weren’t very reassuring, but Marian gave a small nod of acknowledgment. The giant looked back to Garrett, but her hand remained on her dagger.

Garrett, for the most part, seemed baffled. Not surprising: her brother would never willingly attack someone unless he had no other choice. 

“I wouldn’t!” Her brother looked absolutely insulted at the accusation. “They’ve done nothing to me, why would I attack them?”

Marian could think of a dozen reasons to attack a Qunari patrol even if they hadn’t seemed hostile, but she kept her mouth shut. No need to make this situation escalate.

“I believe you. If you are not responsible, I waste my time here.” With that, the horned man looked away from them and towards the next passing human, a man who cowered and rushed off as soon as he saw the Qunari looking at him. 

It seemed the conversation was over, and Marian was the first to walk off followed closely by the rest. She spotted Isabela leaning against the wall not far away. When had she left their side? Marian wondered if there was something antagonistic between the pirate and the Qunari after all.

“What’d the big guy want?” The Pirate questioned, standing from the wall and placing a hand on her hip. 

Marian pursed her lips, “A patrol of theirs went missing.They wanted to know if we were responsible.” She said simply, walking a little closer as the rest of the group followed behind. “Where did you go?”

“Oh, I didn’t think you’d need me.” She smirked, “They are impervious to my charms, I figured there were better things to do.”

“I’m sure they are just so _overwhelmed_ by your beauty,” Marian joked, “I certainly am, they’re huge.”

“You are a very overwhelming person.” Fenris agreed, stepping beside Marian. Over the last two weeks, he’d certainly gotten more comfortable around her. Not quite as comfortable as Isabela, his shoulders still tensed anytime she came a little too close, but more so than he had been before. Marian suspected it had to do with her never using her magic, or perhaps because she kept making jokes he seemed to enjoy. Either was a very valid reason.

“We should check it out.” 

“What?” Marian looked towards her brother who stepped with Anders and Varric behind him. “What’d you say?”

“We should see if we can find that patrol.” Garrett said casually. 

“Surely you’re joking?” Anders frowned beside the man, and Varric just shook his head. For the most part, Isabela and Fenris seemed unsurprised.

“Of course he’s not.” Marian sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “He’s curious now. He wants his bone.”

“I want my what?”

“She’s comparing you to a mabari.” Fenris supplied. 

“Thanks, Fen.” Marian shot him a look and he gave a little smirk. _Asshole._

“My pleasure.” 

“Am I supposed to take that as an insult?” Garrett touched a finger to his chin, “Mabari are smart, and powerful, I don’t really get-”

“Oi, we are Ferelden _enough_ , no need to prove it.” Marian shoved his arm playfully, “But seriously, are you gonna make us trek up the wounded coast? Really?”

“It’s not so bad!” Garrett insisted, and everyone in the party groaned. “It’s not!”

“Hawke, that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard from your mouth.” Varric was obviously unhappy about the arrangement, though he often was anytime they left the city. 

“It’ll be an adventure!” Garrett was not easily swayed. 

“I’ll go, if it means I get the chance to see what’s so special about that blade.” Isabela pointed towards Marian’s waist, and Varric visibly perked up at the comment. 

“Actually, I’m pretty curious about that too… count me in.”

“And who said I’m going?” Marian was obviously going, but she hated that they just automatically _assumed_ she was. She wasn’t _that_ predictable.

“Wait, I’m lost. What blade?” Garrett looked towards her waist where the dagger was tucked and then back at her face.

Marian sighed and pulled out the knife, showing the rest of the group. The dark metal glinted and the insignia sat like a weight in her palm. Those who hadn’t seen it before came closer to look at it. Fenris huffed at the apparent quality of the craftsmanship, and Garrett’s head tilted to the side in confusion.

“Well... that’ll be useful.” Anders looked back up at her, “Why’d you buy a cracked blade?”

“Maybe you’ll see.” She placed it back in it’s holster and looked at Garrett. “Are we going or not? We’re losing daylight.”

Garrett stood up straighter and nodded, “Let’s go.” 

He (surprisingly) didn’t make any detours as he led them to the coast. They were there in a little under an hour, and it didn’t take them much longer to find the bodies of the ‘karataam’ or whatever they were called. 

Of course, to get to the bodies, they had to fight fade creatures. More specifically, abominations and shades. 

So… not her favorite things in the world. 

Good news though: mage blades (like the one she had conveniently picked up earlier) were _very_ effective against creatures from the fade. Mage blades themselves weren’t physically different from any other dagger you may come across, but in the right hands it could to great things.

And in her hands? It could do more than that.

One shade came at her, hazy like a black fog, but quick and ferocious. It had been a while since she fought the lesser creatures of the fade, and she sort of missed the feeling of satisfaction she got from fighting creatures like this _outside_ of the fade. She was so used to nightmares and fighting off demons in their territory, it was a relief she had the upperhand here. 

Not that they would be particularly hard to defeat in either territory. 

She pulled the knives from her belt and let her mana run wild. No spells, of course, she wouldn’t risk anything that could get her detected this close to the city, but it was there and present. Fenris glowed beside her, fighting his own shade off, Isabela ducked and went for the furthest shade that’s sights were set on Anders, and her brother headed straight for the abomination. 

Marian slipped out of reach of the shade’s clutches, it’s talon like hands swiping just above her hairline. She easily sunk both of her blades into the creature’s stomach (if it had one) and watched in delight as it dissolved with a bright flash of red.

Her magic always came out red, for some reason, even when it wasn’t necessarily _her_ doing magic. 

The bright flash, however, did catch the abomination’s attention as it turned from Garrett to her. Not what she had intended, but a very welcome side-effect. 

The beast clambered over, heavy limbs swinging almost clumsy at it’s sides. Marian briefly wondered who this abomination was before they had taken on the demon. Were they a young boy who got a little hasty in his dreams? Was is an ex-circle-mage calling to the demons for help against templars? Or had those pesky Qunari frightened a poor apostate who was simply trying to live in peace? 

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be the talking type. Such a shame.

The abomination swept for her and she let the hit crack the barrier Anders had cast over her earlier in the fight. It gave her a clean and easy shot to the creature’s face with her new dagger. 

The beast roared as it’s head began to shine bright and blinding, her mana pouring in through the cracked blade. The insignia burned in her palm as she twisted the blade deeper into the abomination’s face, causing it to grasp for her desperately.

She pulled away, avoiding it’s large slow limbs, then ducked in for a second stab to the heart. She ripped the blade down it’s body and watched as the crack turned bright before the entire creature disappeared in a poof of dusty fade energy.

Behind where the beast would have been standing, Marian saw her brother wide eyed and almost happy looking. The rest of the party had finished their fighting, and were now glancing at her curiously. Isabela looked impressed, as did Varric and Anders. Fenris looked a little nervous, but otherwise unphased.

“That’s… the first time I’ve seen you use magic since you’ve been here.” He commented, and Marian had to hold back a huff of laughter.

“That was not my magic.” She twirled the blade in her hands deftly, then pointed it towards her brother. “That was this baby funnelling my mana. Trust me, you’d _taste_ my magic if I’d done a spell.”

He gave her a puzzled look and Marian saw Fenris frown in her peripheral view as he strapped his sword across his back once again. 

Perhaps… she should not mention her magic like that again. 

“So… only mages huh?” Varric actually sounded a bit disappointed at that. “I was hoping we had a new secret weapon I could use against these things.”

“My blade has very hefty standards, Story-teller. I’m afraid you do not meet the height requirement.” She teased, smiling as she knelt to rummage through the pockets of the once-mage-turned-abomination. 

“What about me?” Isabela called, sauntering over and reaching out as if to pluck the blade from her grasp. “I meet the height requirement, right?”

“Your bosoms are too great, it would feel outshined.” Marian put a hand to her chest dramatically.

Fenris snorted, but otherwise just rolled his eyes. Marian still didn’t understand how he actually thought she was funny, but he’s laughed at about 87% of the jokes she’s made since meeting him, so she’d say that’s a lot.

Anders looked quizzical, “Me then?”

Marian looked at him thoughtfully, putting a hand to her chin. After a moment of quiet appraisal, she shook her head.

“Too many feathers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: gulpygrif.tumblr.com
> 
>  
> 
> P.S. I hate writing fight scenes


	9. Fruits and Frowns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carver is grudge-holder champion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the worst. 
> 
> ily so much you guys... the kudos... the comments... they give me life.... i love u
> 
> also chapter title makes no sense ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> .... or does it?  
> think on it...

Carver is, admittedly, not the best man in the world. It’s been made clear to him by everyone he’s ever known that he’s not perfect, that he’s a brat at best and a demon at worst. Shit, sometimes he found _himself_ getting annoyed at his own antics. 

For instance: why did he have to care so damn much about _too_ damn much?

He wished he knew. 

It certainly didn’t come from his father. That man didn’t seem to care about much other than his family, and practical jokes, and magic and… that was pretty much it. And his mother was… his mother. Not much else to say there, really. 

Carver though… he just felt so worked up about _everything_ recently. He felt like he was kinda standing on the edge of the cliff and just waiting to fall in. Like, if one more thing made him care, he might break into pieces and scatter to the wind. 

Maybe that’d actually be a good thing. 

He’d been a Templar for… two years now? He felt like he’d gotten nowhere, in terms of friendships or just in general in terms of where he thought he might be at this point in his life. He had wanted to make a name for himself here, to be seen for _caring_ about the mages and trying to actually _help_ them. Apparently caring was not a good quality in Templars, if their attitude towards him was anything to show for it. 

He was receiving backlash on all sides of his life for just trying to help out. His family was mad that he _’left’_ them, his colleagues all hated his guts or he hated theirs, and none of the mages trusted him either. He was kind of lonely, not that he would ever say it to anyone.  
He thought of Peaches, occasionally.

He thought of his sisters more though. Mostly Bethany, because he could remember her without feeling guilty for forgetting what she looked like. He saw her in the mirror every damn day and in every mage that walked through the halls. He sometimes thought that about how much better it would have been if _he_ had been the one to die, but then he stops thinking about that because _he wasn’t_ and that _hurt_. 

He sometimes thought of Marian too, but all he can really remember anymore is her ‘lessons’ and the eyebrow scar he gave her. It had been a while since he thought about his eldest sister. After she had died, the whole family just had to... stop talking about her. Marian had been the trouble-making glue that held them all together, and it had been hard without her there. His mom had gotten over it first, but his father was never quite the same after her death. Bethany was always a little heart-broken, but she got through it. Garrett had tried to fill in her role after she was gone, he had even started learning how to fight and defend himself for the first time in his life. 

Carver did resent him for that. No one could replace Marian. Not him, not Bethany, no one. 

He did _not_ think of his brother, as much as he could avoid it. He loved Garrett, sure, but his brother was a moron. He was too...naive, too sensitive, too nosy, and definitely too _nice_ to live in a city like Kirkwall. Carver was sure the only reason his brother hadn’t been chewed up and spit out yet was because of the dwarf helping them along the way.

“ _Carver!_ ”

Oh Maker.

Carver held in a groan as he spun to meet his roommate face to face. She was a terrifying nightmare- a short, aggressive, hateful, and totally _rude_ person (if you could call her that). Anything that stood in her way was destroyed, no matter who or what it was. Her little squinty eyes and wiry brown hair and her scrunched up nose and permanently furrowed brows never changed. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t think he’d ever seen her smile before. 

Like he said: terrifying.

“Ruth?” Did she find out he was the one who put a lizard in her bed? He really hoped not. “Something wrong?”

“You,” She pushed a finger into his chest accusingly, “pick up your stupid letters! There’s a pile waiting for you, _again_!” Her voice was shrill and she always yelled whenever she spoke. He imagined her voice might actually be nice… if she talked like a _normal_ person.

“I’m kind of on duty here.” Carver grumbled, looking back towards his charges. He had mostly been ignoring the hundreds of letters his brother had sent him since he’d arrived. They were always the same ‘I’m disappointed in you Carver’, ‘This isn’t fair to the family, Carver’, ‘Stop ignoring my messages, Carver’. So he ignored them, let them sit. He had better things to do then write a letter his family wouldn’t even appreciate.

“I don’t care! If I have to tell you again to get your damn mail, I swear to the Maker-”

“Okay, okay. _Maker’s breath_ , calm down.” Carver frowned, “I’ll pick up my letters later. I can’t exactly leave right now…” He gestured to the little boy and woman in the Library, both completely ignoring his presence, as per usual. He currently was in charge of two apprentices, one young boy, no older than twelve, and an older girl who had previously been an apostate. The boy was known as a prodigy amongst the others, but he was often a target of bullying too. Carver usually put an end to it, but the boy _still_ wouldn’t speak to him. The woman was seen as a bit of a trouble-maker, but if you asked Carver, he’d just say she was having some fun. He was glad someone in this damn place was…

“You better! If that pile is not out my tonight, I am shoving them all down your throat!” She spun around and left him there (finally, thankfully). 

Carver sighed, leaning heavily against the wall. He hated those letters.

~~~

The pile was far larger than he had anticipated, but three months of not picking up letters tends to do that. There were… twenty-three? Twenty-three letters, a majority of which were from Garrett. There were four from his mother, though, one from Varric, and one that just had his name in chicken-scratch. He had the night to rest tonight, so he figured he may as well take the time to read, and most likely, _burn_ them up in his room. Ruth wouldn’t be coming back until later anyway. 

So he went, trumping up the stairs and to his room after a brief stop at the mess hall to grab a bite to eat. He had eaten dinner earlier, so he just grabbed an apple and went on his merry way. No need to stop for conversation.

He decided, upon entering his shared quarters, to read Varric’s letter first. After stripping of his armor and boots, he grabbed the letters, dropped them on his bed, and sat with his back against the headboard. Plucking Varric’s letter off the top, he began to read.

> _Junior…_
> 
> _Your brother is worried sick here. I’m asking as a friend, please just send him-_

Nope. Carver immediately dropped the letter into the ‘burn’ pile on the floor. Next, he decided he should read one of his mother's.

> _My son, Carver._
> 
> _I don’t understand why we haven’t heard from you. It’s been months! Why don’t you come home, just visit and we can talk about this whole Templar nonsense, alright? We need-_

Into the fire pile it went. Carver was beginning to think he should just burn all of them and not even bother reading another. They would all same the exact same thing anyway, probably, except maybe that random one with no name but his own. Yeah, he’d only read that one then.

After pushing off the rest of the letter to the floor, Carver grabbed the ‘mystery letter’ and began reading the brief passage.

> _Carver! Long time no see! So there are, of course, some important matters to discuss,_

Was this Isabela? He thought she’d have better handwriting than that.

> _but I’d rather do that in person. I imagine you have a lot of questions for me, and I certainly have some assumptions about you. Not unlike before, I suppose.  
>  I’ll make this brief then, so you can get your ass over here and we can have a “discussion”. It’s me, your sister._

Carver felt enraged. Did his family think this was funny? Pretending to be Bethany in some mocking letter to him? What was _wrong_ with them?

> _Not Bethany, the other one. I know, you’ve probably forgotten all about me, but I am here, I promise. Come to the Amell Estate for an ass kicking, if you dare._
> 
> _Love,  
>  Marian_

He didn’t know what to say, didn’t have the words to describe his disgust. Why would they joke around and pretend about being Marian? Of course, if Marian had been alive she’d love practical jokes like this, but _really_? This was infuriating, not funny at all, and just plain… _Ugh!_

He crumbled up the note, and reached for his candle, letting the corner of the page catch fire. 

If they were willing to send a note like this to get him home, fine. He’d play their stupid game! 

He didn’t even bother grabbing his armor, he just slipped on his boots and a heavier tunic and headed out. After quickly informing his superior, who only looked at him briefly then nodded, he left and headed straight for Hightown. 

It only took him eight minutes to reach the family home, and as soon as he reached the door he knocked loudly on its wooden surface. He had yet to actually visit this place after it’d been cleaned up, but he wasn’t here for pleasant conversations, he was pissed.

He heard his mother through the door, and he frowned as she pulled open it tentatively. 

“Carver? Carver!” She swung the door open wider, and reached out to pull him in. He swung away, letting loose the scowl he’d been holding back.

“Don’t _touch_ me! You sent that damn letter to get me here, and now I’m here. What is _wrong_ with you!”

“Carver, we haven’t seen you in months, of course we sent letters!” 

“Pretending to be Marian?” He accused furrowing his brow. “It wasn’t funny.”

“Oh, Marian! She’s here, Carver!” His mother grabbed his arm tightly. “She came back!”

“Seriously? You are still trying to pull this off? It’s not funny!”

“It’s not a joke, Carver.” Garrett came from behind his mother, frowning deeply. “You think we’d joke like that?”

“Of course you would!” Carver accused, “You’ve been trying to take her place since she… died! _She’d_ joke like that!”

“You know, the whole neighborhood can hear you!” A voice came from somewhere Carver couldn’t see. 

He growled, “Fuck off!”

“Carver!”

The voice laughed, “Manners! Where’d you learn language like that?”

He ignored the comment and turned back to his family. “What did you so desperately need me here for that you sent that damn letter? Or was this all just some sick joke?” 

Garrett gestured to the back of the house, his frown tight. “If you think we are lying, go to the garden.” 

“I don’t need to go to the damn garden! Tell me what you want!”

“Peaches is back here!” A different voice called out, this one he recognized as Isabela. Carver froze on the spot, his face heating and no doubt turning red. Curse his pale complexion!

“You told her?!”

“She’s very pretty, Carver! I may sleep with her if you don’t.” The unfamiliar voice snickered and Carver fumed. 

Carver didn’t even care anymore that he was taking the stupid bait. He let out a string of curses, stepping through the entrance and heading towards the back of the house. The only problem was… he didn’t know where anything in this house was. He spun around and glared at his brother, who only pointed in the general direction of one of the doors and glared right back.

Carver stomped to the door and opened it wide to step through. 

Needless to say, Peaches was _not_ there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I start school back up this summer and I'll be living in a dorm!!!! !!! I'm so excited!!!! 
> 
> Anyway, what does this mean for you? I don't know! I can't possibly update any slower, right?  
> I am continuing the story, do not worry your little heart! I am attached, and this story (even though it's not canon) kinda introduces some characters for other stories I may eventually write. AKA it's a central part of my brain that everything revolves around hahahahahha
> 
> I may be sleep deprived


	10. Dragons, amiright?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian knows her brother like the back of her fist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> u are awesome and I love you.

She heard his voice before she saw his face. Admittedly, she didn’t recognize his voice at first, but once he started _really_ talking, she could tell it was him. 

He sounded just like the hotheaded lovely little brother she remembered. 

Isabela was in the Garden with her, ‘examining’ her bedroll (most likely stealing something from her belongings), but once the pirate had heard Carver’s voice, she had immediately turned towards Marian. Not to be unexpected. Isabela had been prying for information from the very beginning.

When Carver had barged through the door, Marian felt like she had to take a second. 

He was a giant. From her twelve year old baby brother who barely reached her elbow, to her over six foot beast of a brother. 

Maker’s breath, what had they been feeding him?!

He had stopped short at the sight of her, and his mouth literally hung open. Again, not to be unexpected, she didn’t look much different except for the scars… and the hair… and maybe she was skinnier, but recognizable either way.

“Marian…?”

“Hey there, Shorty.” Wow, she needed to give him a new nickname. “I lied, Peaches isn’t here.” Marian said matter of factly. Carver didn’t move.

“Technically, I was the one who lied.” Isabela corrected behind her, “She _could_ be attractive.”

Marian snickered and glanced towards the pirate. “Well either way I wouldn’t sleep with her- ah shit.” She ducked as Carver’s fist came towards her face, just barely getting out of the way before another came her way.

Ah, the love language of _fighters_. 

Carver didn’t say a word as he kept after her, hitting her squarely in the jaw and just barely grazing her nose before Marian pushed him away. There were, apparently, no words to be said as Carver just kept coming. 

Marian didn’t really need him to talk, his face said every damn thing he was thinking at that moment. 

_”Why did you leave?”_  
_“Where did you go?”_  
_“Why didn’t you contact me?”_  
_“How are you alive?”_  
_“You abandoned me!”_

He was pretty easy to read, but of course, he was stubborn, so he wouldn’t actually _ask_ her those questions. She answered them anyway.

“I never died, Templars captured me.” His brow furrowed and he took another swing at her, just missing her head. She ducked and pushed on his back to get him away. He was better than he used to be, but he still got a little predictable when he got upset.

“They got my blood, I couldn’t lead them to you.” She watched him as he spun back around to look at her. His eyes were wild, afraid maybe… not of _her_ she hoped? 

“Once I got free, you were all gone, I couldn’t find you.” He came towards her fast, she didn’t have enough time to duck out of his reach. In any other fight she’d hit him, but not this time. She let him hit her nose (most likely breaking it, judging by the pain), then pushed him off again and staggered away. It took her a second to begin explaining again.

“After I... destroyed my phylactery, I traveled everywhere to find you.” 

“Not everywhere, apparently.” Isabela (helpfully) added, holding the doorknob leading inside tightly in her hands and leaning heavily against the door. No need for Garrett or their mother to see this, they would only make it worse. Marian could hear them trying to get through, but Isabela had, so far, kept up her end of their little bargain.

If Isabela kept them away from the fight, Marian would answer five of her ridiculous questions AND she would help Isabela out with whatever she needed.

Probably not worth it, in the long run, but necessary nonetheless.

“I looked everywhere _I could think of_.” Marian corrected, spinning out of the way of another of his punches. “I would have never left you if I had a choice.”

Carver was crying now, but still swinging like a beast. All attempts to calm him wouldn’t work, probably, if he was anything like he used to be at least. Marian knew what hugin him would lead to. (Body slam that could potentially kill her? No thanks.)

“I won’t ever leave you again?” She added. Carver let out a little breath but just swung again and hit her ear.

Okay this was _really_ starting to hurt.

“Carver?” She questioned, as he hit her again, his fist connecting with her cheek. She was gonna look like shit if this continued any longer, but there wasn’t much she could do. Maybe she should just get it over with.

She groaned and let him grab at her tunic, curling a hand around his wrist as his free hand slammed into her eye. She didn’t even flinch as he came in for another hit, just frowned a bit.

“Why aren’t you fighting back!?” He punched her again, hesitated for a single breath, then went in for another one.

Her face was starting to feel it, not that she’d give out anytime soon, she’d taken more hits in the past, but he hit _hard_ dammit. Certainly not the twelve year old boy she remembered. 

She huffed, “Is that seriously what you were waiting for?”

“Fight back!” He growled.

If that was really what he was waiting for, she would oblige. After another hit to her face, she let her own fist swing and hit him on the side of _his_ face. 

It wasn’t supposed to, but it felt _oh so satisfying_ to hit him. 

He staggered back as she wiped the blood from her nose and swallowed the blood from her mouth. She hated doing that, but she hated spitting it out more. 

He came at her then and tackled her to the ground, effectively taking the breath from her lungs as he landed on top of her. Another swing from him, and a headbut from her, and she had turned the tide and came out on top (literally). Her knuckles hit his left eye before he pushed her off again.

Marian didn’t get up right away, and neither did he, both taking deep and frantic breaths to recover. She didn’t even register that the fight ended until she heard Isabela’s voice.

“Can’t hold this door much longer, guys.” 

Marian sighed, Lifting a hand towards her nose and wincing at the tenderness. She grumbled lightly and squeezed her nose to try and stop the bleeding. She’d have to reset the bone, certainly, but she needed a second to at least _breath_ before she did it. She spared a glance towards her brother on the ground next to her, her vision was a little messed up, with her eye swelling up and all, but she could see his basic shape. His hands were covering his face and his shoulders were shaking.

He was crying… _shit_.

“Carver?” She asked quietly, sitting up a little shakily. It’d been awhile since she’d gotten into a fist fight like that. It actually felt a little invigorating.

“Shut up!” He grumbled, wiping furiously at his eyes. He was just as bad as her when it came to tears and… feelings. She pretended not to notice it.

“You shut up. I was just wondering if I broke your nose cause you sure as shit broke mine.”

“Good.” 

“Brat.” She smiled a little then and stood on her feet, wobbly. Thank the Maker it wasn’t a serious fight. “I need you to help me reset it.” It was silent for a moment as she glanced towards Isabela who gave a little wink in her direction.

“Do it yourself.” He mumbled behind his hands. 

“You look good with a crooked nose, Hawkey.” Isabela purred, keep the door knob firmly in her grip as the door shook behind her.

“I always had a crooked nose. And Hawkey? Really?” Marian snorted.

“Yeah, I’m working on it.” She smirked briefly before glancing down at her hands wrapped around the door’s handle. “Can I let them out now? Your other brother is getting awfully restless over here.”

Marian sighed briefly, glancing up at the sky overhead, hand still clenched around her nose. Cloudy. It’s probably rain later today.

At least it’d fit the mood.

She huffed, reaching a hand towards Carver, letting her eyes wander back down to him. He was still taking deep breaths and covering his eyes, calming himself down just like he used to. He hadn’t even noticed her extended hand.

“Carver, get up.”

“No.”

“I will sit on you.” She watched his lips twitch in the briefest smile before it turned back to a frown. Something, at least.

“That’s not much of a threat is it? You’re like, the size of a house.” 

No comment.

“More like three houses. Or seven. What’s the difference? Lot’s of houses.” She removed her hand from her nose to check if it was still bleeding. 

Yes. A lot. It was still bleeding… _a lot_. 

“Shit, you got me good. Help me reset this thing or I’ll hit you with my pointy steel boots.” She gently nudged the side of his body with her foot, and he finally moved his hands away from his face and looked at her.

His eyes were still red, but she was definitely not gonna say anything. 

“Why-” He croaked out, before clearing his throat briefly to try again, “Why did you come back?”

That… that actually hurt her a little. The question was not one she had been expecting, though she probably should have been. She could feel her face soften a bit, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. He looked like he wanted to cry again, and she kinda wanted to hit him again because _feelings_ , but she refrained.

“I made you a promise.” She said simply, chuckling a little at his confused expression.”You don’t even remember my famous last words? How disappointing, Carver. I am disappointed in you.”

“You expect me to remember a promise you made me when I was eleven?” He grumbled frowning. He actually looked a little guilty, which actually made her feel a little bit worse about her next words.

“I promised you I’d kick your ass next time I saw you, and here I am.” She gave a little bow, still holding onto her nose, “Promise delivered.”

There was a moment of silence as he processed her words and then started laughing. Really, _really _, laughing. He covered his face again, giving a little snort as the laughter continued.__

__Isabela honestly looked a little stunned, but when Marian gave her a little nod, she finally released the door she had been holding onto so tightly and allowed her mother and brother to burst in (or out). Garrett looked pissed, and their mother looked about as frantic as she always did._ _

__Marian smiled though, as wide as her bruised face would allow. “Would you believe a dragon swept in and tried to make love to Isabela? Unbelieveable!”_ _

__She heard Isabela give a snort, and Carver just kept laughing. She wondered briefly how many days it’d been since she heard him laugh like this._ _

__She didn’t think she could count that high._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I. am. not. good. at. fight. scenes.
> 
> I will learn consistent updating technique if I have to give up my kidney to do it.  
> jk, I'm sorry, I don't think I have kidneys to give. 
> 
> I love you all so much, and if you want to yell at me or ask all about the dirty secrets of this story, hmu!  
> gulpygrif.tumblr.com


	11. See No Evil, Know No Marian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabela knows very little about Marian, possibly less than she thought she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a depressed piece of garbage who is slowly crawling out of her Depression© can to bring you content.
> 
> Here is a chapter!  
> I am alive and definitely not abandoning this fic, I just have a lot on my plate with school, work, and my brain. 
> 
> Lack of sleep brings you another chapter. I love you all, and thank you to all those kind souls who kept giving me kudos even though I haven't updated in months???? How did you find me????

Isabela had found out, since Marian’s appearance, that Hawke woman were very stubborn. Not only was Garrett’s mother stubborn (Isabela had known that years ago), but his sister as well. Isabela had tried to pry information out of the mysterious girl, and the only thing she had learned over the course of four months was that Marian liked apples, and she got hiccups when she ate anything slightly too spicy (an adorable trait, by the way, cutest thing Isabela had seen her do). 

Isabela had also learned that puppy eyes were a good tool to make her a little more receptive to questions, though Marian was still vague as ever, but at least _slightly_ less so. In fact, Isabela had a feeling that Marian was perhaps not receptive at all, and just having a jab at the pirate, or perhaps indulging her. 

The point still stood that Isabela knew absolutely nothing significant about her other than what she mentioned on the first night they met, or what Isabela had squeezed out of Hawke over the last few months. Isabela understood secrecy, but this seemed… a little overboard. 

“What is your favorite color?” 

“My what?” Isabela glanced behind her with a little pout. Marian was following along, not even slightly affected by the bitter cold air. 

Everyone was dressed in layers, Varric with his thickest coat and a richly made scarf tucked into his shirt, Merrill with actual boots on for once along with a fuzzy coat the group had bought her after the temperature had dropped below freezing, and Isabela had at least two pairs of pants on and three jackets.

But Marian? All she had was a shirt with longer sleeves and a fuzzier boots. Other than that? Not a thing to protect her from the cold. 

“I asked,” Marian started giving a little smile, “what your favorite color is.”

“Blue, easily blue.” Isabela raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Reminds you of the ocean, right?”

“Yes… why suddenly curious?” 

Marian sniffed, “I’m always curious.”

“But not one to indulge curiosity?”

She laughed at that, the whites of her teeth just breaking through the smile. “Ah, I see. How about we play a game then? I ask questions and we both answer them.”

“That’s not much of a game.” Varric quipped, eyeing Isabela with a look that was usually reserved for when he knew Isabela was cheating at cards. But this time it didn’t mean _’I know what you’re doing but I’m not going to stop you because I want to see where this goes’_ it just meant _’You need to take this opportunity because I want to see where this goes’_

Fair enough, so did she.

“Can I play too?” Merrill stood up from where she had been picking flowers and tucked them into her pockets as she spun to face them. “I’d love to ask some questions! Oh, can I ask questions? Or is that against the rules?” She hooked an arm into Isabela’s, giving a small sigh “I feel like I’ve known you forever, but I hardly know anything about you!”

Isabela plucked two flowers from Merrill’s pocket, tucking one behind Merrill’s ear, and another behind her own. She had to admit, Merrill had a way of explaining things that made them seem like such spot on descriptions, it was sometimes scary.

“I think it’s only fair that we get to ask, _some_ questions, right?” Isabela added, watching Marian chew her lip in thought. 

“I… okay, how about this: it has to be questions we can _all_ answer. Sound… fairer?” 

“If that’s how we are playing, I’m in.” 

“Count me in.”

“Me too! Oh, this is going to be so much fun! Who asks a question first? Should I? Oh, but I don’t have a question yet!”

“It’s fine, I’ll ask first.” Isabela hummed, putting her hand to her chin in thought. What were some questions everyone could answer that would still reveal something about Marian? Oh! “Where have you traveled to, specifically?”

“How specific are we talking?” Varric questioned, “Because the list of cities I’ve been to would take a while to get through.”

“At least give me the main areas, like ‘Free Marches’, you know.”

“Oh, I’ve only been to Ferelden and Free Marches then. I’ve been to a lot of forests though! Oh, but I’m not sure you’d know many…” Merrill pulled a flower from her pocket and twirled it between her fingers. “There was one where the entire forest floor was flowers, oh it was lovely! All the different colors, and the petals were very soft! I was so young then, I don’t really remember which forest it was…”

“If I ever find it, Merrill, I’ll let you know.” Isabela nudged her side affectionately, “Well, I’ve been to Rivain, obviously, Free Marches, I went to Seheron once, not fun, don’t go. I’ve also been to Tevinter, Antiva… hm… oh, Ferelden of course. I almost went to Orlais, but that never really happened.”

“I’ve been to Free Marches, Orlais, Antiva, I think I was in Nevarra once but… I was honestly so drunk I couldn’t really tell you.” Varric supplied chuckling softly.

“Um, I’ve not been to Par Vollen before?” Marian mumbled trying to count the places on her fingers. “Oh shit, wait, yes I have! That was… ha, that was fun.”

Isabela eyed her, “Where _exactly_ have you been?”

Marian pursed her lips, giving the question a quick thought before answering “Everywhere, at least once.”

“Wait, what do you mean everywhere?” 

“Anderfel, Orlais, Ferelden, Tevinter, Free Marches, Antiva, Rivain, Par Vollen, oh wait, what am I saying? I haven’t been to Seheron! Sorry, not everywhere then.”

“That’s a lot of places!” Merrill commented, eyes wide.

“Wait, so the only place you haven’t really been... is Seheron?”

“Yeah, never really had a reason to go there, I guess.”

Holy shit, she’s been _everywhere_? Why? What kind of shady business--

“What brought you to Par Vollen? I get everywhere else but that’s… out of the way, to say the least.” Varric questioned.

“Business, I guess.” Marian shrugged. “Next question.”

“Wait, can’t we know more? ‘Business’ doesn’t exactly answer-”

“It’s supposed to be questions that _everyone_ can answer, remember? Not everyone can answer ‘Why were you in Par Vollen’ because nobody else has been to Par Vollen. Next question.” The Hawke sister waved her hand nonchalantly in the air, as if waving away the current question in everyone’s mind: What kind of shit have you done?

“Oh! I thought of one! If you could be any animal, which would you be? I always thought I’d be a Halla, but I think being a mouse would be much more interesting! You could roam the streets without being bothered at all!”

“I’d be a bear.”

“In more than one way,” Isabela snorted when Varric shot her a warning look. “I’d be a dolphin, maybe a seagull.” Isabela mused.

“I always saw you as more of a _cheat_ -ah.” Marian joked, winking in Isabela’s direction. The pirate had to control the urge to roll her eyes.

“Don’t talk to me ever again, Hawke.” 

“I thought it was very _punny_.” Varric commented, smirking in Marian’s direction. 

Those two would be the death of Isabela. It was even _worse_ when Fenris was around, because his presence always made it worse. For some reason Marian got extra dumb when… wait…

“I have another question.” 

“Wait your turn Rivaini, you just had one. Besides, we haven't heard Hawke’s animal side yet.”

“Oh yeah, I’d totally be a dragon, or you know… a hawk.”

“Go HOME,” Isabela wailed, reaching her leg out to step on the back of the woman’s boot. When had Marian moved in front of her? Isabela hadn’t been paying attention.

“Oh I get it! A hawk because of your name!” Merrill laughed lightly and Isabela felt a smile creep onto her own face, despite herself. The girl had the cutest laugh this side of Thedas, Isabela swore.

“Okay, my turn.” Varric began, turning round to walk backward and speak with the rest of the group. “If, _hypothetically_ , I was writing a book about you… is there anything you’d like me to depict?”

“I want to never be wearing pants.” Isabela chimed.

“Oh, but why? Wouldn't your legs get cold?” Merrill questioned, glancing down at both of their legs. “I suppose if you worse a skirt? Or maybe a long dress.”

“Nope, no dress, no skirt, no pants. It’s a necessary character trait.”

“Personally, I want every monster or person who sees me to cower in immediate fear and shit their pants.”

“Can I have a flower in my hair? Or would that be silly?” Merrill wondered.

“I can do Rivaini’s and Daisy’s, but Hawke, you’re gonna have to think up another one.” Varric cut in.

“What? Why? I feel a little discriminated against.”

“That’s because I am discriminating against you. Choose something else that’s a little easier to use. For example,” Varric ran a hand over his shirt, “I’m making my chest hair even _more_ prominent.”

“Now that’s just impossible.” Hawke stated, and Isabela had to agree. 

“Come on Hawke, think.”

“Um… Make me dramatic.” She pointed to the large scar running across her nose, “I want a blood swipe across my nose at all times.” 

“Are you kidding me?”

“Wait, so she doesn’t have to wear pants, but I can’t have a dramatic blood swipe?”

Varric sighed, “Fine, alright! Blood swipe, flowers, and pantless. That’s it though, nothing else.”

The group finally crested Sundermount, sunlight peaking through the clouds above them. The ground was covered in a thin layer of snow that even during the summer seemed to stay atop the mountain. The air was thin, but then again, even in the lowest reaches of Kirkwall the air seemed thin.

They were here for a meeting, apparently. Marian had told everyone she was coming up here, and Garrett, paranoid brother that he was, had insisted people go with her. Marian didn’t seem overly bothered by it, but Isabela could imagine she’d prefer a little _less_ company at times. Especially with how much Garrett has insisted on following her these past few months, almost like he was afraid she’d run off. Not that Isabela blamed him, Marian did occasionally seem skittish. 

“This is the place. They may not be here for a bit, so might as well rest while we can.” Marian lowered the sack she’d had slung over her shoulder and plopped unceremoniously down on the ground. After a moment to look around, the rest of them followed suite. 

“Who are we meeting here again?” Varric began, resting his crossbow gently on the ground. “I know you told us, but--”

“No one particularly special. He’s here to bring me something, and I wanted to experience the mountain. He’s never been this high before.”

“Also he doesn’t want to come into town?”

“Also…. Yes. He’s a little… nervous. Crowds aren’t his thing.” Marian shrugged. “He grew up in a very secluded place. He doesn’t really know what to do with… people.”

“I don’t think I do either.” Merrill commented. 

“Just… try not to spook him. I think he’ll be okay if we take it slow.”

So they waited, Isabela taking the extra time to sharpen her blades while Merrill braided her hair. Varric eventually pulled out a deck of cards and Marian taught him some game that even Isabela had never heard of. Apparently the game was only known by mages who lived in the Ostwick circle, and it was called “belly-up”. 

It was an hour later when they all heard someone grunting and gasping for breath as they crested the hill. A small frail man, no younger than forty, showed up red faced and cursing. No one bothered standing up, Marian had told them not to react much when he arrived.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” Marian did not sit up from where she sat, but did look over at the man with bright eyes. 

“You are no cat.” After a cough, the man clambered over, sitting down next to Marian without any sort of caution. “Are you playing belly-up?”

“Of course.” Marian turned back to her cards, but handed him a small selection of thirteen cards so he could join the game. “I’m teaching my friend here how to play.” 

“She’s wiping the floor with my ass.” Varric mumbled, laying down a selection of three cards then groaning in protest as Marian swiped them away. “I honestly think she’s making up the rules as she goes along, this makes no sense.”

“It’s a high probability that she is doing exactly that.” 

“Hey hey, no one is losing money so there’s no issues.” Marian chuckled, then put down a stack of four cards. “I have adjusted it a little from the Ostwick version, but only because we don’t have three decks of cards. It’s your turn by the way.”

“I don’t understand why you always put cards in my hand, we both know I can’t see them.” The man sniffed, then placed down three cards of his own. Merril, Varric, and Isabela shot Marian a glance, but there was no visible reaction as she huffed a complaint.

“It’s because you are lucky. You just set down a winning hand… again” Marian sighed and placed the rest of her cards down, casting a sidelong glance at the man who had joined them. “Are you sure you’re blind? You don’t act it.”

“How is a blind person supposed to act?” The man asked, turning his face towards Marian but Isabela noticed he didn’t exactly look her in the eye.

“More feeble. Let me help you once in awhile maybe?” Marian prompted, standing on her feet and reaching a hand over to help the man up.

The man smiled, reached out and grasped Marian’s hand, only to release it a moment later and stand up on his own. “You’re assuming I need it. Now, introduce me to your friends, I’m sure they are as curious as I am.”

Marian rolled her eyes, but did as she was told. “Simon, there are three people here. Varric, who spoke earlier, Merrill,” Marian gestured to Merrill and she greeted him with a ‘hello’ and a smile he apparently couldn’t see. “...and Isabela.”

“Hey.” Isabela was about to wave to the man, but cut herself short when she remembered he wouldn’t be able to see it anyway. A strange encounter this was, not at all how she had envisioned it going.

The man, Simon, smiled pleasantly. “A pleasure. Now, buisness?” 

“Right, why did you want to meet?” Marian grabbed his arm gently and made some sort of signal with her hand to show him which way she was walking before releasing him to take a few steps down the path that circled their little resting spot.

“I need a favor,” He started, following Marian’s stride without and visible hesitation. 

“Everyone does.” Marian chuckled, gently knocking a rock out of the path. “What’s it this time?”

“It’s about Amelia…”

It suddenly became quiet as Marian turned towards him questioningly. Marian didn’t speak, but took a few steps closer to him and grasped his arm. The man frowned, then sighed.

“I am… hoping you can find her.”

“Did she run off again?” Marian asked, her voice devoid of any sort of humor or lightheartedness. 

“We thought so, but it’s been six weeks. We are beginning-”

“Fuck.”

“I didn’t want to come to you with this, but... I think you are the only one who can find her.” Simon reached out and rubbed at her shoulder tenderly as Marian placed a hand over his. “We didn’t want to ever make you do this again but… he is desperate.”

Marian looked darkly to the ground, her eyes dashing back and forth beneath her. Isabela had never seen her like this, so distraught and frankly terrifying in the way her face twisted. Marian looked like a completely different person beneath her stormy eyes, and suddenly Isabela wondered if she really knew _anything_ about the woman at all.

It was a long minute before Marian spoke. “I will find her. Give me two weeks.”

Isabela did not see Marian at the Hanged Man that night, and suddenly two weeks seemed a long ways away.


	12. Where's Amelia?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marian's on the hunt, and she's gotta do something she really doesn't want to...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha, here I am. School's out for the summer, so lets see how well I can keep up with this story now.
> 
> I'm not making any promises, because I'm a piece of poo who doesn't follow through always, but it's cool. I'll try and see how it goes. Maybe I'll start another fic? Maybe? We'll see.
> 
> I love ya'll so much, you have no idea. You guys are so patient and understanding and I LOVE YOU <3

It took her eight days to find Amelia’s trail. 

The girl was clever, she hid her tracks, kept herself blended in the crowds, and never made a scene. Even worse the girl was so average, no one could tell her apart from any other brunette that had walked into town. No distinct marks, no defining traits. She was unremarkable in every sense of the word. 

Marian never thought she’d be _ungrateful_ for that fact.

The only thing Marian had to go on was her age. A young woman at barely eighteen was hardly seen alone, and if they were, _somebody_ took notice. Usually… not the good somebodies. 

Marian checked the back channels, the prostitutes, the alley rats, still not a soul had seen her. She bartered, asked every person she could possibly think of and there were only dead ends in every direction.

 _Typical_. Marian, it seems, had taught the girl a little too well.

She had a last resort that she really didn’t want to use. Like, _super_ did not want to use. It was risky, and stupid, and absolutely not a good idea… but she was running out of time. Every day was another problem, every minute a possibility of Amelia getting caught.

Marian found a cave outside of Ostwick where she decided to set up her trap. Lines in the dirt, her magic poured into every crevice of the cave, the smell of all sorts of herbs lingering in the air. The rocks around her glowed with energy, and the lines she dug were black with a paste of herbs. 

She was scared. This isn’t something she’d want to do again, it was not something… not something even worth trying. The risk was great but… she owed it to Amelia… to Randal. She was the only one who could possibly make it out of this stupid hypothetical plan that only she had ever marginally succeeded with once. 

She shivered.

No point in waiting any longer. 

She took a deep breath and poured every ounce of magic she possibly could into the cave around her. Letting it burst from her hands, from her eyes, she lowered herself to the ground, sitting criss-crossed in the center of the ring that surrounded her.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

The fade was more active, more vivid than she remembered it being. It had been so long since she had allowed herself to cast anything more than a simple spell. It didn’t take long to catch the attention of more than a few spirits.

Desire demons clung to her heels as she followed the path of the fade, it’s twisting turns almost dizzyingly sick. Soon pride demons showed up, their words complementary, then fear followed her, silent and shivering, then despair, sobbing and calling out names she used every ounce of strength to ignore. Nothing she couldn’t handle, ignoring them was usually how she handled most of the spirits of the fade, though the despair were the most difficult to… dodge. There was a crowd surrounding her soon, swirling and contorting the fade around her. They wanted her power, her body, but she had dealt with this her entire life, today was not the day she was going to give in.

It felt like she had walked miles before she spotted the flittering spirit watching from a distance. 

_Thank fuck, I don’t know how much longer I could deal with these guys nipping at my heels._ Marian turned towards where she saw the spirit at and followed after it, it’s transparent form twisted around the base of a pillar, then slide to another one slightly closer to her. 

_”Why are you here? It is a great risk to come as you are, what could be worth that risk?”_ the spirit questioned, ghostly appendages reaching forward to grasp her arm and pull her closer. _”How do you hold the power without cracking? How do you release without using?”_

Marian focused on the spirit’s questions, allowing the spirit of curiosity to overtake her mind. She felt Curiosity’s limbs twist around her own and suddenly the snapping horde of demons seemed to disappear, leaving a sense of questioning instead. _How come I hold so much power? How do I hold it without breaking? How do I find who I am looking for without breaking?_

 _”You come with many questions, which do you want answered? I also want to know many things. Can we help one another?”_ The spirit twisted around her further, wrapping around her waist and neck until all she could see of herself was her arms. She tried to not react.

“Can you help me find Amelia? It is important I find her. I cannot do it without you.” Marian asked. “I will answer what I can.”

 _”I can help you, but why must you find her? Why did you leave her?”_ It hummed.

“I owe it to her family to make sure she is safe. And I left because I owe it to _my_ family to keep them safe.”

 _”You have many loyalties. What happens when they conflict?”_

“I choose which feels right in the moment.” 

_”I see... I cannot feel your friend, but I know where she should be. Why isn’t she where she should be?”_

Marian frowned, that was… not a good sign. “Where should she be?”

 _“In a place to the north, she was cold before she left. Where did she go?”_

To the north was not a very… exact place. Marian needed more. “I do not know, but I will find her, wherever she is.”

 _”Why you?”_ It asked and Marian paused. Why her indeed...

“Because I can.”

It almost seemed to laugh then, untwisting itself from her body to spin around her in circles. _”That is true, you can. I think you will. Will you save her no matter the method?”_ it asked, wrapping again around the pillar then transferring another one. It was leading her away, down a path that veered away from the fade’s ingrained road. 

Marian frowned, but followed after the spirit, her gut twisting uncomfortably as the path became more narrow. The pillars loomed over her, foreboding in a way. In her peripheral, the pillars turned into those familiar statues, _Oppression, and Depression_. She shivered.

“I will. Do you know the name of where she last was? You say to the north, but is there more information you can give?” 

_“I know it’s name, the place is called Markham. Dark and cold, water drip drip drips in the corner. Where does it come from? The people there wear clanky armor, they like to pray, to sing to their Maker. Why do they wear armor indoors when there is no war?”_

Armor, prayers… fuck, Amelia was already caught. Marian needed to get her, immediately, like yesterday immediately. The girl was probably terrified, and the fact she ‘disappeared’ from the fade probably meant they were keeping her secluded and keeping her completely without power. Markham had a small circle, it normally wasn’t known for its brutality, then again, Marian heard little to nothing about that circle at all… she tried not to think about the worst case scenario. 

“Shit, okay I need to go now.” Marian closed her eyes, willing herself to wake up. A moment before she could, Curiosity coiled around her body, tightening until her limbs became numb and she had no choice but to open her eyes again.

The spirit was frowning, in a way only a faceless thing could. _”You said you would answer my questions.”_ it coiled, tightening it’s grip even as she tried to pry it’s limbs away. _”Answer me this: what does it feel like to live where you live? To be outside with the sun on your face? What does it feel like to walk among people? To smile, to feel anger? Pain? Love?”_

Marian pried her arm free, panic seeping into her bones. It wanted to take her place. Of course it did, why couldn’t she have found a spirit of Compassion? They never ask for anything in return. Why did she have to find a spirit of Curiosity out of all things? Something that wanted to know everything? 

Bad luck. Bad luck! Bad luck, Maker dammit! Was she ever lucky? (No, the answer was no.)

Fear was beginning to seep through from the ground, it’s limbs twisting around her as well. Her panic had begun to attract the other spirits from their depths. Fuck! Shit, shit! She closed her eyes, tight willing herself to focus on the real world, to go blank here in the fade. 

_Breath. Take deep breaths Marian._

How would she get out of this, how could she possibly win this time? She could feel her heart beating out of her chest. Was she going to die here? She was going to die, wasn’t she? She could feel it, she was going to die in the fade. How weak is she? She always thought she could never be defeated here, in the Fade, how prideful and stupid. She was going to die and then she’d be nothing more than just another story used to fuel the templars rage and contempt. She was already dead!

_Deep breaths. Calm down, deep breaths._

In her mind images flashed: dead friends, lovers dying because of _her_ , she was a curse upon every person she’s ever met. Nothing good came from her, only bad, only tragedy. Had she ever done something good? She has only caused pain and destruction. Maybe she should give in, give up? Maybe it was time for her to go… maybe someone else could do a better job than she could. Maybe someone should take her place because she was nothing more than a sad curse upon whoever she met.

_Breath. In, out, in, out._

She was so tired, so entirely _exhausted_ from being herself. Everyone always pulled her every which way. When was the last time she had slept a full night? The last time she had relaxed, closed her eyes and took her time to just exist? It felt like she never had. Like she was always doing something, always working for someone else. Had she _ever_ done something for her own sake? She should, she was burning out, she was only getting more tired by the minute.

_In, out. Fill my lungs, feel it._

And of course she was tired, she had to deal with everyone else’s problems all damn day. Maybe... it was everyone else who caused the problems. Maybe she wasn’t the curse, maybe she _was_ cursed by everyone around her. She was strong and capable, how long had she lived with her strength? She had overcome every problem in her life with no fear. She didn’t fear _anything_. She deserved to be strong, to take her place at the top. Maybe if she could take her place above everyone, she’d finally be free of her suffering? She was already at the top, already ahead of everyone else. She was the strongest mage she knew, the strongest person she’s ever met, she belonged on top.

_Deep breaths, feel the air in my lungs._

Why was she always the one blamed for what happened? Why did she always blame herself? It was stupid! She was strong, it wasn’t her fault! Everything she had lived through and she was still shit on at every turn. No one gave back to her the way she needed. No one understood her! How could they, she never let them! Maybe she should show them how she truly felt… maybe she should finally show them everything she’s pent up inside for her whole damn life, everything she’s kept hidden. Maybe it was time to let it loose, let the _Rage_ -

_Fucking breath, dumbass!_

Marian felt the air leave her lungs in a rush as fire enveloped her body. Every spirit that had grabbed a hold of her, Fear, Despair, Sloth, Pride, Rage, had curled their hook into her, a hold that tore at the flesh and left a unique pain of it’s own. Raw, torn, aching, burning, sharp, the rush of sensations pulled her apart. 

She cried out, clawing at her arms, curling into herself, and releasing her magic in the form of fire-- a burning that turned everything to ash. It went on for what seemed like hours, but must have only been seconds, seconds of torture. The echoes of Despair, Sloth, and Rage calling out to her in a final attempt to tempt her. Such an enticing concept, to give in, such a strong pull to let them take over. She almost did, _almost_ gave in entirely, but then she remembered why she couldn’t.

She remembered her promise to her brother so long ago, imagined the look on Carver’s face if she came to him possessed, the tears that would stream down Garrett’s face as he took on the responsibility of cutting her down. The contempt on Fenris’ face, the disappointment in Isabela’s eyes, the frown on Varric’s mouth, the despair in Anders' soul, the mourning in Merrill's cries. She had something to prove, something to protect. She couldn’t _rest_ , couldn’t _give up_ , couldn’t let herself get angry. There was only one option:

_Win._


	13. This is a Mystery We Can't Solve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merrill doesn't know where Marian is, and neither does anyone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck, but I still love you all endlessly. My brain is just a piece of poo that's been working overtime for the last half a year (my god has it been that long??? I'm AWFUL) This year has gone by faster than ever and a lot of things are happening. 
> 
> Once again, I want to thank everyone for their kind understanding and patience and all the love you guys have been sending me. Sorry for the crappy chapter, Merrill is hard to write for. Hopefully the next will be better.
> 
> xoxoxo  
> gulpygrif

“What do you mean she’s _gone?_ ” 

Merrill looked to her lap, avoiding Garrett’s eyes and picking at her skirt nervously. She had come to his house late in the afternoon bearing gifts of fruit and handmade trinkets. It was something she occasionally did without reason, but more often as an apology (like when she had lost his jacket, or had stolen his shoes to give to someone in the Alienage). It usually wasn’t a huge issue, but _this_? 

Let’s just say Merrill had decided to bring more gifts than usual.

“Merrill, what do you mean? Isabela told me Marian had gone to The Blooming Rose for the night.” Garrett ran a panicked hand through his hair as he paced through the room. Merrill could only imagine what was going through his mind, poor Hawke was always a little nervous about his sister’s whereabouts, something Merrill had never particularly agreed with. It was a little confining, Garrett’s insistence that someone accompany his sister whenever she decided to go off alone. Luckily Marian never seemed to mind much, but Merrill certainly would. She knew herself well enough to know that.

Perhaps it was the Dalish in her that made her enjoy her freedom, (though she very much doubted that, being Dalish had it’s own set of restrictions and confinements, _especially_ as a First). Yet, when Merrill imagined herself being in Marian’s situation, she very much doubted she would last two weeks before yelling at her sibling. What was that saying Varric had? _Birds need to fly_? Whether or not that was exactly the metaphor was irrelevant, it fit either way.

But the truth was that Marian’s disappearance _was_ a little alarming. It was so sudden, and the face she had made before leaving ahead of them was more determined and fierce than any face she had seen in a long while. It quite reminded her of Mahariel’s when Tamlen needed his own form of rescuing, and that was always a troubling matter. 

Perhaps it was a similar situation? They had mentioned an Amelia, perhaps she needed rescuing quite like Tamlen had those many years ago. 

“She looked very determined, I don’t think any of us wanted to pry.” Merrill sighed, smoothing her skirt across her thighs. “Hawke, your sister is very strong, I think even if she gets into trouble--”

“If this is your idea of comforting me--”

“--she will know what to do. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt! I just think we are very similar, Hawke, I used to always worry about my friend Mahariel, she had many bad habits that I would worry about too, but many times I just worried about her getting into trouble. She always found a way out though, and I always wished I could have been like that, always off on an adventure, but I was a First, I could only watch.”

Hawke paused in his steps, and took a shaky breath. He had changed a lot since Marian had come to them, much more worry clouded his thoughts, it made him sigh a lot, and cry. Merrill still couldn’t believe how much more emotional he seemed now. She wondered how the appearance of one person can change someone so much, though putting herself into his shoes, she could understand. A long thought dead sibling? If Tamlen or Mahariel came to her now she would cry a lot too, she supposed. 

But even with that understanding, Hawke was still fretting far too much. Marian had been with the group for a while and hadn’t so much as hinted at leaving anytime soon. There was just something she had to do, she would be back. Garrett was acting like she was never coming back. Yes, she left, but there was no reason to suspect she would be gone forever, in fact she had told that man, Simon, she only needed two weeks to find the girl Amelia. 

It couldn’t be much longer than that.... Right?

Merrill smiled, hopefully reassuring, and stood up to place a gentle hand on her friend’s back. “She’ll be fine Hawke.”

~~~

Merrill was watching Garrett slowly spiral into madness..

His worry was overwhelming and vicious, clouding his thoughts, his judgement. It was upsetting to watch, to be near. The first two weeks had passed without any word from Marian, and with no indication she was on her way. Hawke was losing sleep, and getting sloppy, and somehow becoming more of a mess than ever. 

The group had decided to stop going on missions in the town, instead they made it their new mission to brighten Garrett’s day, even a little. So far... they were failing miserably. 

The only person to get him to so much as _think_ about something else was Fenris, and that was only for a brief instance where he somehow convinced Garrett to help him look for winter clothes in the market. Even then, all he did was trade one worry for another.

It couldn’t be much longer, could it? Marian _had_ to be back soon. For all their sakes, Merrill truly hoped so.

~~~

Weeks passed slower and slower as they continued to wait. 

The group had heard stories in the time she had been gone, no one knew which were connected to her, what Marian was actually doing out there. Merrill wasn’t sure any of the stories were connected to her at all. 

Varric kept his “feelers” out, Isabela kept in contact with whoever she knew, Fenris used what he could to help try and find her, Anders had wild speculations on mage things she could be involved in. Merrill wrote letters to different alienages, seeing if she could get anyone to admit to seeing her. Even Carver helped by keeping an eye on templar activity, promising if he found any information he’d let the group know. And Garrett… Garrett couldn’t stop writing, sending letters to people that could possibly find her. He even tried to hire a bounty hunter, but the man was unwilling if she didn’t have an actual _legal_ bounty on her head.

Garrett slowly stopped fretting, he became serious, determined. He wanted to find her. He set up missions to investigate where she had gone, what had happened to her. No one thought she was dead, not really, but the possibility seemed to grow every time they found a lead and all it led to was another end or a dead body that no one could be sure _wasn’t_ her’s. 

Mostly, the group kind of did their own thing while they all waited. Everyone met up on their own time, usually at the Hanged Man, but otherwise there were no more group outings unless it was somehow connected to Marian’s whereabouts. It was sad, seeing everything kind of pause while Marian was away. Merrill quite liked their little missions, though she had enough to do in the alienage anyway. Still, besides Isabela and Varric who visited occasionally, Merrill didn’t see much of the others.

“The sea is harsh and cruel,” Isabela had told Merrill one night as they sat together in Merrill’s home after failing, again, to find Marian. They had been pressed together under the blanket, keeping warm in the bitter cold of winter. “Just when you think you’ve found something good, the tides take it away or pull it under never to be seen again.”

Merrill had stayed up very late that night listening to Isabela breath deep and thinking that perhaps she was right. Their little family wasn’t the same now that Marian had disrupted it then disappeared. What a shame, she was just beginning to like Marian too.

~~~

A little over five months after Marian left, there were no dead ends left to investigate. The group had mostly given up hope that they would ever see her again, and with that they had stopped looking at all. If she did come back, she would come back on her own time.

Garrett of course, still did what he could, sending letters and coercing people to help him search. Carver had even come to The Hanged Man a few times, telling of strange happenings in the templar ranks. Still, there was no proof his sister was involved, in fact, Merrill wondered if Carter was making connections to comfort himself. The only other person who still kept an eye out for her was Varric, and he was one of the first people to think she wasn’t going to be found. He was just indulging Garrett and everyone knew it.

For the most part, all hope was relatively lost... until Marian showed up at Fenris’ doorstep asking for a drink. 

She had apparently came to his mansion in the middle of the night with little more than a coat and asked if she could come in for a while. After Marian had fallen asleep in front of his fire place, Fenris had contacted Garrett and the rest of them to tell them where she was. They’d all rushed there as soon as possible, waiting with baited breath to see what had happened.

But she was, for all intents and purposes, normal. Like she never even left in the first place. She joked and brushed off all questions to her whereabouts, she took Garrett’s scolding in stride and promised it wouldn’t happen again. Marian eased her brothers worries, but she wouldn’t explain herself. It was both reassuring and worrying at the same time.

Marian insisted on continuing any questioning at The Hanged Man, stating she had missed the rotten smell that let her know she was back in Kirkwall. So the party all walked there, reaching it just as the sun was rising. 

They grabbed the table at Varric’s normal loft, sent a messenger to find Carver and let him know they’d found her, and then Garrett continued his questioning of her whereabouts. She still wasn't being straight forward, but at least she was answering some questions.

“Where have you been?”

“North.”

“What were you doing?”

“Keeping busy.”

And so they went, shooting back and forth with little to no substantial information being shared. Merrill let her eyes wander the scene, taking in everyone’s reactions. Everyone in the group had asked a few of their own questions, or cut into the conversation to place some input… all except one.

Merrill had noticed Fenris frowning in the corner, looking like he wanted to say something for most of the night. To her, it seemed strange, Fenris didn’t usually stop himself from speaking his mind, not anymore at least. Merrill knew he wasn’t very fond of her, but she _was_ curious what he had to say. After Marian skillfully dodged another question, Merrill slipped through the room towards him, catching his eye just as she began to step forward. He watched her as she came closer, but averted his eyes when she came to a stop beside him.

“Hello, Fenris. I’m quite surprised we found Marian, or I suppose, Marian found us? Though I don’t think she ever lost us, it’s very much like she never left. She seems healthy, and just fine, which is a very good thing.”

Fenris shrugged, glancing quickly at Marian and then back towards Merrill, “I suppose.”

Merrill cocked her head to the side, “You suppose what? That she seems okay, or that it’s a good thing?” When Fenris didn’t respond, she continued, “You look like you have something to say, if you’d like you can tell me. Of course only if you want to, I wouldn’t want to force you to say anything you’d rather not. That wouldn’t be very nice of me would it? You just haven’t spoken all night, is all.”

Fenris stared for a moment, then huffed, “You are more intuitive than you appear to be.” 

“I don’t--”

He held out his hand to stop her from continuing, “I meant it as a complement, and apologize if it did not seem to be so.” Fenris paused, letting his hand drop to his side again. “And you are correct, I have things to say, but I do not believe it is my place to say them.”

Silence hung in the air between them for a moment, peaceful and without tension, perhaps for the first time since they’d met. Merrill never did like the quiet though, it always made her restless, so she broke it.

“I know you don’t care for me much, Fenris, but if you don’t mind me saying, I feel like we are all family, a strange tangled family, maybe even more like a clan. What I am trying to say is if you have something important to say, you should say it.” Merrill clasped her hands together to stop herself from reaching out and making him uncomfortable, he never did like people touching him. “I think everyone would listen, and understand where you are coming from, wherever that is.”

Fenris sighed, looking over back towards the Hawkes. Merrill looked too, searching for whatever it was Fenris was staring at, what it was he was so focused on. Marian was ruffling a frustrated Garrett’s hair, laughing heartily before leaning over to whisper in Isabela’s ear. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. Merrill didn’t see it, the Hawke siblings were the same as always.

“When I saw her this morning, she was not like this.” Fenris began, crossing his arms in what Merrill now understood was contemplation, not discomfort (it had taken her a long time to learn that). “I am worried she is pushing herself.”

Merrill frowned, “What do you mean? What was she like this morning?” she didn't understand, was Marian hiding something? Was something actually wrong? Usually Merrill was more perceptive to that sort of thing, but not this time she supposed.

Fenris looked back to Merrill, searching her face for something. It took a moment, but when he seemed to find it, he looked backwards Marian once again. “She was mourning.”

Mourning? What had happened? “Mourning what? Did something happen? Is she alright?”

“She would not say.”

When they lapsed back into silence, Merrill did not break it this time. Instead, she joined Fenris in watching Marian, trying to figure out what he meant. Did Marian not find the girl she had left to search for? What was her name… Amelia? Had Amelia been killed? 

It only took a moment for Marian to notice them looking (if she hadn’t already known they were, which Merrill suspected she did). She grinned wide and winked in their direction before turning away again, her cheeks slightly red from the drink, Merrill suspected. 

“I do not understand why she came to the mansion...” Fenris mused beside her quietly. Merrill turned to look at him fully, curious, and he kept her gaze. “I do not understand many things about Marian, but I am sure she will never explain herself.” 

“Oh, I’m not sure. Maybe she’s just not used to us yet?” Merrill smiled, “It’s only been a little while, right? Maybe she’ll tell us more… or maybe not.” Merrill sighed, frowning slightly. “I would love to learn more about her, though... Oh! I would never want to force her. Only if she wants to tell us!.” Merrill backtracked.

Fenris, surprisingly, chuckled. “Right.” He glanced once more at Marian then straightened himself to go. “It has been a long night, or morning as is the case,” He nodded to the window that allowed sunlight from the early morning to shine in, “I am leaving.” He addressed the room.

The rest of the group said their goodbyes to Fenris, and it wasn’t long until Merrill followed suite. As much as she wished to stay, she was getting very tired, and she had much to do in the morning. 

As she walked home, she wondered what tomorrow would bring. Answers maybe, is she was lucky.


End file.
